
Qass. 
Book. 



PRu.^. 



I^t^' 



THE 

LIGHT OF ASIA; 

OR, 

THE Great renunciation 

(MAHABHINISHKRAMANA). 

BEING 

Zbc %itc anO TleacbinQ of (5autama, 

^Prince of Snbto anb g^ounbcr of 58ubt)l)t§tn 
(as told in verse by an INDIAN BUDDHIST). 

BY 

EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A. 



NEW YORK 
THE MERSHON COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



PREFACE. 



In the following Poem I have sought, by 
the medium of an imaginary Buddhist votary, 
to depict the life and character and indicate 
the philosophy of that noble hero and re- 
former, Prince Gautama of India, the founder 
of Buddhism. 

A generation ago little or nothing was known 
in Europe of this great faith of Asia, which 
had nevertheless existed during twenty-four 
centuries, and at this day surpasses, in the 
number of its followers and the area of its 
prevalence, any other form of creed. Four 
hundred and seventy millions of our race live 
and die in the tenets of Gautama; and the 
spiritual dominions of this ancient teacher ex- 
tend, at the present time, from Nepaul and 
Ceylon over the whole Eastern Peninsula to 
China, Japan, Thibet, Central Asia, Siberia, 
and even Swedish Lapland. India itself might 
fairly be included in this magnificent empire 



6 preface, 

of belief, for though the profession of Bud- 
dhism has for the most part passed away from 
the land of its birth, the mark of Gautama's 
sublime teaching is stamped ineffaceably upon 
modern Brahmanism, and the most character- 
istic habits and convictions of the Hindus are 
clearly due to the benign influence of Buddha's 
precepts. More than a third of mankind, 
therefore, owe their moral and religious ideas 
to this illustrious prince, whose personality, 
though imperfectly revealed in the existing 
sources of information, cannot but appear the 
highest, gentlest, holiest, and most beneficent, 
with one exception, in the history of Thought. 
Discordant in frequent particulars, and sorely 
overlaid by corruptions, inventions, and mis- 
conceptions, the Buddhistical books yet agree in 
the one point of recording nothing — no single 
act or word — which mars the perfect purity 
and tenderness of this Indian teacher, who 
united the truest princely qualities with the 
intellect of a sage and the passionate devotion 
of a martyr. Even M. Barthelemy St. Hilaire, 
totally misjudging, as he does, many points of 
Buddhism, is well cited by Professor Max 
Miiller as saying of Prince Siddartha, " Sa vie 
n'a point de tache. Son constant h^roisme 



IPreface, 7 

^gale sa conviction ; et si la th^orie qu'il pr6« 
conise est f ausse, les exemples personnels qu'il 
donne sont irreprochables. II est le module 
acheve de toutes les vertus qu'il pr^che ; son 
abnegation, sa charite, son inalterable douceur 
ne se dementent point un seul instant. ... II 
prepare silencieusement sa doctrine par six 
annees de retraite et de meditation ; il la pro- 
page par la seule puissance de la parole et de 
la persuasion pendant plus d'un demi-siecle, 
et quand il meurt entre les bras de ses dis- 
ciples, c'est avec la serenite d'un sage qui a 
pratiqud le bien toute sa vie, et qui est assurd 
d'avoir trouve le vrai." To Gautama has 
consequently been given this stupendous con- 
quest of humanity ; and — though he discoun- 
tenanced ritual, and declared himself, even 
when on the threshold of Nirvana, to be only 
what all other men might become — the love 
and gratitude of Asia, disobeying his mandate, 
have given him fervent worship. Forests of 
flowers are daily laid upon his stainless shrines, 
and countless millions of lips daily repeat the 
formula, " I take refuge in Buddha ! " 

The Buddha of this poem — if, as need not 
be doubted, he really existed — was born on 
the borders of Nepaul, about 620 b. c, and 



S preface. 

died about 543 b. c. at Kusinagara in Oudh. 
In point of age, therefore, most other creeds 
are youthful compared with this venerable 
religion, which has in it the eternity of a uni- 
versal hope, the immortality of a boundless 
love, an indestructible element of faith in final 
good, and the proudest assertion ever made of 
human freedom. The extravagances which 
disfigure the record and practice of Buddhism 
are to be referred to that inevitable degrada- 
tion which priesthoods always inflict upon 
great ideas committed to their charge. The 
power and sublimity of Gautama's original 
doctrines should be estimated by their influ- 
ence, not by their interpreters ; nor by that 
innocent but lazy and ceremonious church 
which has arisen on the foundations of the 
Buddhistic Brotherhood or " Sangha." 

I have put my poem into a Buddhist's mouth, 
because, to appreciate the spirit of Asiatic 
thoughts, they should be regarded from the 
Oriental point of view ; and neither the mir- 
acles which consecrate this record, nor the 
philosophy which it embodies, could have been 
otherwise so naturally reproduced. The doc- 
trine of Transmigration, for instance — startling 
to modern minds — was established and thor- 



preface, 9 

oughly accepted by the Hindus of Buddha's 
time ; that period when Jerusalem was being 
taken by Nebuchadnezzar, when Nineveh was 
falling to the Medes, and Marseilles was 
founded by the Phocaeans. The exposition 
here offered of so antique a system is of neces- 
sity incomplete, and — in obedience to the laws 
of poetic art — passes rapidly by many matters 
philosophically most important, as well as 
over the long ministry of Gautama. But my 
purpose has been obtained if any just concep- 
tion be here conveyed of the lofty character of 
this noble prince, and of the general purport 
of his doctrines. As to these there has arisen 
prodigious controversy among the erudite, who 
will be aware that I have taken the imperfect 
Buddhistic citations much as they stand in 
Spence Hardy's work, and have also modified 
more than one passage in the received narra- 
tives. The views, however, here indicated of 
*' Nirvana," " Dharma," " Karma," and the 
other chief features of Buddhism, are at least 
the fruits of considerable study, and also of a 
firm conviction that a third of mankind would 
never have been brought to believe in blank 
abstractions, or in Nothingness as the issue 
and crown of Being. 



lo preface. 

Finally, in reverence to the illustrious Pro- 
mulgator of this " Light of Asia," and in hom- 
age to the many eminent scholars who have 
devoted noble labors to his memory, for which 
both repose and ability are wanting to me, I 
beg that the shortcomings of my too-hurried 
study may be forgiven. It has been com- 
posed in the brief intervals of days without 
leisure, but is inspired by an abiding desire to 
aid in the better mutual knowledge of East 
and West. The time may come, I hope, when 
this book and my " Indian Song of Songs " 
will preserve the memory of one who loved 
India and the Indian peoples. 

EDWIN ARNOLD, C. S. I, 
London, /«i^, 1879. 



THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 



g00fe tU gXX^t 



The Scripture of the Saviour of the World, 
Lord Buddha — Prince Siddartha styled »n 

earth — 
In Earth and Heavens a?id Hells Incomparable, 
All honored, Wisest, Best, most Pitiful ; 
J7ie Teacher of Nirvana and the Law. 

Thus came he to be born again for men. 

Below the highest sphere four Regents sit 
Who rule our world, and under them are zones 
Nearer, but high, where saintliest spirits dead 
Wait thrice ten thousand years, then live 

again ; 
And on Lord Buddha, waiting in that sky, 
Came for our sakes the five sure signs of birth 



12 ^bc XfQbtof Bsia* 

So that the Devas knew the signs, and said 
" Buddha will go again to help the World." 
" Yea ! " spake He, " now I go to help the 

World 
This last of many times ; for birth and death 
End hence for me and those who learn my 

Law. 
I will go down among the Sakyas, 
Under the southward snows of Himalay, 
Where pious people live and a just King." 

That night the wife of King Suddhodana, 
Maya the Queen, asleep beside her Lord, 
Dreamed a strange dream ; dreamed that a 

star from Heaven — 
Splendid, six-rayed, in color rosy-pearl, 
Whereof the token was an Elephant 
Six-tusked and whiter than Vahuka's milk — 
Shot through the void and, shining into her, 
Entered her womb upon the right. Awaked, 
Bliss beyond mortal mother's filled her breast, 
And over half the earth a lovely light 
Forewent the morn. The strong hills shook ; 

the waves 
Sank lulled ; all flowers that blow by day came 

forth 
As 'twere high noon ; down to the farthest hells 



JBooft tbe 3flc0t, 13 

Passed the Queen's joy, as when warm sun- 
shine thrills 
Wood-glooms to gold, and into all the deeps 
A tender whisper pierced. " Oh ye," it said, 
" The dead that are to live, the live who die, 
Uprise, and hear, and hope ! Buddha is 

come ! " 
Whereat in Limbos numberless much peace 
Spread, and the world's heart throbbed, and a 

wind blew 
With unknown freshness over lands and seas. 
And when the morning dawned, and this was 

told. 
The grey dream-readers said "The dream is 

good ! 
The Crab is in conjunction with the Sun ; 
The Queen shall bear a boy, a holy child 
Of wondrous wisdom, profiting all flesh, 
Who shall deliver men from ignorance. 
Or rule the world, if he will deign to rule." 

In this wise was the holy Buddha born. 

Queen Maya stood at noon, her days fulfilled, 
Under a Palsa in the Palace-grounds, 
A stately trunk, straight as a temple-shaft. 
With crown of glossy leaves and fragraut 
blooms ; 



14 ^be XlQbt of Bsla» 

And, knowing the time come — for all things 

knew — 
The conscious tree bent down its boughs to 

make 
A bower about Queen Maya's majesty, 
And Earth put forth a thousand sudden flowers 
To spread a couch, while, ready for the bath, 
The rock hard by gave out a limpid stream 
Of crystal flow. So brought she forth her 

child 
Pangless — he having on his perfect form 
The marks, thirty and two, of blessed birth; 
Of which the great news to the Palace came. 
But when they brought the painted palanquin 
To fetch him home, the bearers of the poles 
Were the four Regents of the Earth, came 

down 
From Mount Sumeru — they who write men's 

deeds 
On brazen plates — the Angel of the East, 
Whose hosts are clad in silver robes, and bear 
Targets of pearl : the Angel of the South, 
Whose horsemen, the Kumbhandas, ride blue 

steeds. 
With sapphire shields : the Angel of the West^ 
By Nigas followed, riding steeds blood-red, 
With coral shields : the Angel of the Norths 



JBooft tbe ifirst. 15 

Environed by his Yakshas, all in gold, 
On yellow horses, bearing shields of gold. 
These, with their pomp invisible, came down 
And took the poles, in caste and outward 

garb 
Like bearers, yet most mighty gods ; and gods 
Walked free with men that day, though men 

knew not : 
For Heaven was filled with gladness for 

Earth's sake, 
Knowing Lord Buddha thus was come again. 

But King Suddhodana wist not of this ; 
The portents troubled, till his dream-readers 
Augured a Prince of earthly dominance, 
A Chakravartin, such as rise to rule 
Once in each thousand years ; seven gifts he 

has — 
The Chakra-ratna, disc divine ; the gem ; 
The horse, the Aswa-ratna, that proud steed 
Which tramps the clouds ; a snow-white 

elephant, 
The Hasti-ratna, born to bear his king ; 
The crafty Minister, the General 
Unconquered, and the wife of peerless grace, 
The Istri-ratna, lovelier than the Dawn. 
For which gifts looking with this wondrous boy, 



t6 ^be Xi0bt ot Bsta, 

The King gave order that his town should keep 
High festival ; therefore the ways were swept, 
Rose-odors sprinkled in the street, the trees 
Were hung with lamps and flags, while merry 

crowds 
Gaped on the sword-players and posturers, 
The jugglers, charmers, swingers, rope-walkers, 
The nautch-girls in their spangled skirts and 

bells 
That chime light laughter round their restless 

feet; 
The masquers wrapped in skins of bear and 

deer, 
The tiger-tamers, wrestlers, quail-fighters, 
Beaters of drum and twanglers of the wire, 
Who made the people happy by command. 
Moreover from afar came merchant-men, 
Bringing, on tidings of this birth, rich gifts 
In golden trays ; goat-shawls, and nard and 

jade, 
Turkises, " evening-sky " tint, woven webs — 
So fine twelve folds hide not a modest face — 
Waist-cloths sewn thick with pearls, and 

sandal-wood ; 
Homage from tribute cities ; so they called 
Their Prince Sav^rthasiddh, " All-Prospering," 
Briefer, Siddartha, 



JBooft tbe 3ficst, 17 

'Mongst the strangers came 
A grey-haired saint, Asita, one whose ears, 
Long closed to earthly things, caught heavenly 

sounds. 
And heard at prayer beneath his peepul-tree 
The Devas singing songs at Buddha's birth. 
Wondrous in lore he was by age and fasts ; 
Him, drawing nigh, seeming so reverend, 
The King saluted, and Queen Maya made 
To lay her babe before such holy feet ; 
But when he saw the Prince the old man 

cried 
" Ah, Queen, not so ! " and thereupon he 

touched 
Eight times the dust, laid his waste visage 

there. 
Saying, " O Babe ! I worship ! Thou art He ! 
I see the rosy light, the foot-sole marks, 
The soft curled tendril of the Swastika, 
The sacred primal signs thirty and two. 
The eighty lesser tokens. Thou art Buddh, 
And thou wilt preach the Law and save all 

flesh 
Who learn the Law, though I shall never hear, 
Dying too soon, who lately longed to die ; 
Howbeit I have seen Thee. Know, O King I 
This is that Blossom on our human tree 



i8 ^be Xigbt of Bsla. 

Which opens once in many myriad years — 
But opened, fills the world with Wisdom's 

scent 
And Love's dropped honey ; from thy royal 

root 
A Heavenly Lotus springs : " Ah, happy 

House ! 
Yet not all-happy, for a sword must pierce 
Thy bowels for this boy — whilst thou, sweet 

Queen ! 
Dear to all gods and men for this great birth, 
Henceforth art grown too sacred for more woe. 
And life is woe, therefore in seven days 
Painless thou shalt attain the close of pain." 

Which fell : for on the seventh evening 
Queen Maya smiling slept, and waked no 

more, 
Passing content to Trayastrinshas-Heaven, 
Where countless Devas worship her and wait 
Attendant on that radiant Motherhead. 
But for the Babe they found a foster-nurse. 
Princess Mahaprajapati — her breast 
Nourished with noble milk the lips of Him 
Whose lijJs comfort the Worlds. 

When th' eighth year passed 
The careful King bethought to teach his son 



JBooft tbe Jfirst. 19 

AH that a Prince should learn, for still he 

shunned 
The too vast presage of those miracles, 
The glories and the sufferings of a Buddh. 
So, in full council of his Ministers, 
"Who is the wisest man, great sirs," he asked, 
"To teach my Prince that which a Prince 

should know ? 
Whereto gave answer each with instant voice 
" King ! Viswamitra is the wisest one, 
The farthest-seen in Scriptures, and the best 
In learning, and the manual arts, and all." 
Thus Viswamitra came and heard commands ; 
And, on a day found fortunate, the Prince 
Took up his slate> of ox-red sandal-wood, 
All-beautified by gems around the rim. 
And sprinkled smooth with dust of emery, 
These took he, and his writing-stick, and stood 
With eyes bent down before the Sage, who 

said, 
" Child, write this Scripture," speaking slow 

the verse 
" Gdyatrt " named, which only High-born 

hear : — 

Om^ tatsaviturvarenyam 
Bhargo devasya dhimahi 
Dhiyo yo ?ia prachodaydt. 



20 XLbe Xiflbt of Bsla. 

" Acharya, I write," meekly replied 

The Prince, and quickly on the dust h. 

drew — 
Not in one script, but many characters — 
The sacred verse ; Nagri and Dakshin, Nl, 
Mangal, Parusha, Yava, Tirthi, Uk, 
Darad, Sikhyani, Mana, Madhyachar, 
The pictured writings and the speech of signs, 
Tokens of cave-men and the sea-peoples. 
Of those who worship snakes beneath the 

earth, 
And those who flame adore and the sun's orb, 
The Magians and the dwellers on the mounds ; 
Of all the nations all strange scripts he traced 
One after other with his writing-stick, 
Reading the master's verse in every tongue ; 
And Viswamitra said, " It is enough, 
Let us to numbers. 

After me repeat 
Your numeration till we reach the Lakh, 
One, two, three, four, to ten, and then by tens 
To hundreds, thousands." After him the 

child 
Named digits, decads, centuries ; nor paused. 
The round lakh reached, but softly murmured 

on 
" Then comes the koti, nahut, ninnahut, 



JBooft tbe 3fir5t. »i 

Khamba, viskhamba, abab, attata. 

To kumuds, gundhikas, and utpalas, 

By pundarikas unto padumas, 

Which last is how you count the utmost gralna 

Of Hastagiri ground to finest dust ; 

But beyond that a numeration is, 

The Katha, used to count the stars at night ; 

The Koti- Katha, for the ocean drops ; 

Ingga, the calculus of circulars ; 

Sarvanikchepa, by the which you deal 

With all the sands of Gunga, till we come 

To Antah-Kalpas, where the unit is 

The sands of ten crore Gungas. If one seeks 

More comprehensive scale, th' arithmic mounts 

By the Asankya, which is the tale 

Of all the drops that in ten thousand years 

Would fall on all the worlds by daily rain ; 

Thence unto Maha Kalpas, by the which 

The Gods compute their future and their past." 

" 'Tis good," the Sage rejoined, " Most noble 

Prince, 
If these thou know'st, needs it that I should 

teach 
The mensuration of the lineal ? " 
Humbly the boy replied, " Acharya I " 
•* Be pleased to hear me. Paramanus ten 



22 tibe TLxQbt of 2l6fa» 

A parasukshma make ; ten of those build 

The trasarene, and seven trasarenes 

One mote's-length floating in the beam, seven 

motes 
The whisker-point of mouse, and ten of these 
One likhya ; Hkhyas ten a yuka, ten 
Yukas a heart of barley, which is held 
Seven times a wasp-waist ; so unto the grain 
Of mung and mustard and the barley-corn, 
Whereof ten give the finger-joint, twelve joints 
The span, wherefrom we reach the cubit, staff, 
Bow-length, lance-length ; while twenty lengths 

of lance 
Mete what is named a * breath,' which is to say 
Such space as man may stride with lungs once 

filled 
Whereof a gow is forty, four times that 
A yojana ; and. Master ! if it please, 
I shall recite how many sun-motes lie 
From end to end within a yojana." 
Thereat, with instant skill, the little Prince 
Pronounced the total of the atoms true. 
But Viswamitra heard it on his face 
Prostrate before the boy ; " For thou," ke 

cried, 
'* Art Teacher of thy teachers — thou, not I, 
4rt Giiru. Oh, I worship thee, sweet Prince* 



:fi5ooft tbe jfirst, »g 

That comest to my school only to show 
Thou knowest all without the books, tnd 

know'st 
Fair reverence besides." 

Which reverence 
Lord Buddha kept to all his schoolmasters, 
Albeit beyond their learning taught ; in speech 
Right gentle, yet so wise ; princely of mien. 
Yet softly-mannered ; modest, deferent, 
And tender-hearted, though of fearless blood ; 
No bolder horseman in the youthful band 
E'er rode in gay chase of the shy gazelles ; 
No keener driver of the chariot 
In mimic contest scoured the Palace-courts ; 
Yet in mid-play the boy would ofttimes pause, 
Letting the deer pass free ; would ofttimes 

yield 
His half-won race because the laboring steeds 
Fetched painful breath ; or if his princely 

mates 
Saddened to lose, or if some wistful dream 
Swept o'er his thoughts. And ever with the 

years 
Waxed this compassionateness of our Lord, 
Even as a great tree grows from two soft leaves 
To spread its shade afar ; but hardly yet 
Knew the young child of sorrow, pain, oi 

tears, 



24 ^t>e Xifibt ot Bsia. 

Save as strange names for things not felt by 

kings, 
Nor ever to be felt. But it befell 
In the Royal garden on a day of spring, 
A flock of wild swans passed, voyaging north 
To their nest-places on Himala's breast. 
Calling in love-notes down their snowy line 
The bright birds flew, by fond love piloted ; 
And Devadatta, cousin of the Prince, 
Pointed his bow, and loosed a wilful shaft 
Which found the wide wing of the foremost 

swan 
Broad-spread to glide upon the free blue 

road 
So that it fell, the bitter arrow fixed. 
Bright scarlet blood-gouts staining the pure 

plumes. 
Which seeing. Prince Siddartha took the bird 
Tenderly up, rested i. his lap — 
Sitting with knees crossed, as Lord Buddha 

sits — 
And, soothing with a touch the wild thing's 

fright. 
Composed its ruffled vans, calmed its quick 

heart. 
Caressed it into peace with light kind palms 
As soft as plaintain-leaves an hour unrolled ; 



:ffiooft tbe mv6X. 25 

And while the left hand held, the right hand 

drew 
The cruel steel forth from the wound and laid 
Cool leaves and healing honey on the smart. 
Yet all so little knew the boy of pain 
That curiously into his wrist he pressed 
The arrow's barb, and winced to feel it sting, 
And turned with tears to soothe his bird again. 
Then some one came who said, " My Prince 

hath shot 
A swan, which fell among the roses here, 
He bids me pray you send it. Will you send ? " 
"Nay," quoth Siddartha, "if the bird were 

dead 
To send it to the slayer might be well, 
But the swan lives ; my cousin hath but killed 
The god-like speed which throbbed in this 

white wing." 
And Devadatta answered, " The wild thing, 
Living or dead, is his who fetched it down ; 
'Twas no man's in the clouds, but fall'n 'tis 

mme, 
Give me my prize, fair Cousin." Then our Lord 
Laid the swan's neck beside his own smooth 

cheek 
And gravely spake, " Say no ! the bird is mine. 
The first of myriad things which shall be mine 



26 ^be Xig'ot of 'Esia, 

By right of mercy and love's lordliness. 
For now I know, by what within me stirs, 
That I shall teach compassion unto men 
And be a speechless world's interpreter, 
Abating this accursed flood of woe, 
Not man's alone ; but, if the Prince disputes 
Let him submit this matter to the wise 
And we will wait their word." So was it done; 
In full divan the business had debate. 
And many thought this thing and many that, 
Till there arose an unknown priest who said, 
" If life be aught, the saviour of a life 
Owns more the living thing than he can own 
Who sought to slay — the slayer spoils and 

wastes, 
The cherisher sustains, give him the bird : " 
Which judgment all found just ; but when the 

King 
Sought out the sage for honor, he was gone ; 
And some one saw a hooded snake glide 

forth,— 
The gods come ofttimes thus I So our Lord 

Buddh 
Began his works of mercy. 

Yet not more 
Knew he as yet of grief than that one bird's, 
Which, being healed, went joyous to its kind 



J6ooft tbe jPirst 27 

But on another day the King said, " Come, 
Sweet son ! and see the pleasaunce of tha 

spring, 
And how the fruitful earth is wooed to yield 
Its riches to the reaper ; how my realm — 
Which shall be thine when the pile flames foi 

me — 
Feeds all its mouths and keeps the King's 

chest filled. 
Fair is the season with new leaves, bright 

blooms, 
Green grass, and cries of plough-time." So 

they rode 
Into a land of wells and gardens, where, 
All up and down the rich red loam, the steers 
Strained their strong shoulders in the creaking 

yoke 
Dragging the ploughs ; the fat soil rose and 

rolled 
In smooth dark waves back from the plough ; 

who drove 
Planted both feet upon the leaping share 
To make the furrow deep ; among the palms 
The tinkle of the rippling water rang. 
And where it ran the glad earth 'broidered it 
With balsams and the spears of lemon-grass. 
Elsewhere were sowers who went forth to sow; 



28 XLhc XiQbt ot B6ta» 

And all the jungle laughed with nesting-songSj 
And all the thickets rustled with small life 
Of lizard, bee, beetle, and creeping things 
Pleased at the spring-time. In the mango 

sprays 
The sun-birds flashed ; alone at his green forge 
Toiled the loud coppersmith ; bee-eaters 

hawked 
Chasing the purple butterflies ; beneath, 
Striped squirrels rsi.ced, the mynas perked and 

picked. 
The nine brown sisters chattered in the thorn, 
The pied fish-tiger hung above the pool, 
The egrets stalked among the buffaloes, 
The kites sailed circles in the golden air ; 
About the painted temple peacocks flew. 
The blue doves cooed from every well, far of? 
The village drums beat for some marriage-feast; 
All things spoke peace and plenty, and the 

Prince 
Saw and rejoiced. But, looking deep, he saw 
The thorns which grow upon this rose of life : 
How the swart peasant sweated for his wage, 
Toiling for leave to live ; and how he urged 
The great-eyed oxen through the flaming hours, 
Goading their velvet flanks : thei: marked he^ 

too, 



JSool; tbe 3f irst. 2^ 

How lizard fed on ant, and snake on him, 
And kite on both ; and how the fish-hawl 

robbed 
The fish-tiger of that which it had seized ; 
The shrike chasing the bulbul, which did chas« 
The jewelled butterflies ; till everywhere 
Each slew a slayer and in turn was slain, 
Life living upon death. So the fair show 
Veiled one vast, savage, grim conspiracy 
Of mutual murder, from the worm to man, 
Who himself kills his fellow ; seeing which — • 
The hungry ploughman and his laboring kine 
Their dewlaps blistered with the bitter yoke. 
The rage to live which makes all living strife^ 
The Prince Siddartha sighed. "Is this," he 

said, 
" That happy earth they brought me forth ta 

see ? 
How salt with sweat the peasant's bread ! now 

hard 
The oxen's service ! in the brake how fierce 
The war of weak and strong ! i' th' air what 

plots ! 
No refuge e'en in water. Go aside 
A space, and let me muse on what ye show." 
So saying, the good Lord Buddha seated him 
Under a jambu-tree, with ankles crossed — 



30 ^be %iQ\yt of Bsla. 

As holy statues sit — and first began 
To meditate this deep disease of life, 
What its far source and whence its remedy. 
So vast a pity filled him, such wide love 
For living things, such passion to heal pain, 
That by their stress his princely spirit passed 
To ecstasy, and, purged from mortal taint 
Of sense and self, the boy attained thereat 
Dhyana, first step of " the path." 

There flew 
High overhead that hour five holy ones, 
Whose free wings faltered as they passed the 

tree. 
" What power superior draws us from our 

flight ? " 
They asked, for spirits feel all force divine, 
And know the sacred presence of the pure. 
Then, looking downward, they beheld the 

Buddh 
Crowned with a rose-hued aureole, intent 
On thoughts to save ; while from the grove a 

voice 
Cried, " Rishis ! this is He shall help the 

world. 
Descend and worship." So the Bright Ones 

came 
And sang a song of praise, folding their wings, 



Then journeyed on taking good news to 
Gods. 

But certain from the King seeking the 

Prince 
Found him still musing, though the noon was 

past, 
And the sun hastened to the western hills : 
Yet, while all shadows moved, the jambu-tree's 
Stayed in one quarter, overspreading him. 
Lest the sloped rays should strike that sacred 

head ; 
And he who saw this sight heard a voice say, 
Amid the blossoms of the rose-apple, 
" Let be the King's son ! till the shadow goes 
Forth from his heart my shadow will not shift/ 



^00^ m S^ttmL 



Now, when our Lord was come to eighteen 

years, 
The King commanded that there should be 

built 
Three stately houses, one of hewn square 

beams 
With cedar lining, warm for winter days ; 
One of veined marbles, cool for summer heat ; 
And one of burned bricks, with blue tiles 

bedecked. 
Pleasant at seed-time, when the champaks 

bud— 
Subha, Suramma, Ramma, were their names. 
DeUcious gardens round about them bloomed, 
Streams wandered wild and musky thickets 

stretched. 
With many a bright pavilion and fair lawn 
In midst of which Siddartha strayed at will, 
Some new delight provided every hour •, 
And happy hours he knew, for life was rich, 

32 



JBooft tbc SeconD. 33 

With youthful blood at quickest ; yet still came 

The shadows of his meditation back, 

As the lake's silver dulls with driving clouds. 

Which the king marking, called his Ministers. 
*' Bethink ye, sirs ! how the old Rishi spake," 
He said, " and what my dream-readers foretold. 
This boy, more dear to me than mine heart's 

blood, 
Shall be of universal dominance. 
Trampling the neck of all his enemies, 
A King of kings — and this is in my heart ; — 
Or he shall tread the sad and lowly path 
Of self-denial and of pious pains. 
Gaining who knows what good, when all is lost 
Worth keeping ; and to this his wistful eyes 
Do still incline amid my palaces. 
But ye are sage, and ye will counsel me ; 
How may his feet be turned to that proud road 
Where they should walk, and all fair signs 

come true 
Which gave him Earth to rule, if he would 

rule } " 

The eldest answered, " Maharaja ! love 
Will cure these thin distempers; weave the 
spell 
3 



34 ^J>^ %iQbt ot 2l5ta. 

Of woman's wiles about his idle heart. 
What knows this noble boy of beauty yet, 
Eyes that make heaven forgot, and lips of 

balm ? 
Find him soft wives and pretty playfellows ; 
The thoughts ye cannot stay with brazen chains 
A girl's hair lightly binds." 

And all thought good, 
But the King answered, " if we seek him wives, 
Love chooseth ofttimes with another eye ; 
And if we bid range Beauty's garden round, 
To pluck what blossom pleases, he will smile 
And sweetly shun the joy he knows not of.'* 
Then said another, " Roams the barasingh 
Until the fated arrow flies ; for him, 
As for less lordly spirits, some one charms, 
Some face will seem a Paradise, some form 
Fairer than pale Dawn when she wakes the 

world. 
This do, my King ! Command a festival 
Where the realm's maids shall be competitors 
In youth and grace, and sports that Sakyas 

use. 
Let the Prince give the prizes to the fair. 
And, when the lovely victors pass his seat, 
There shall be those who mark if one or two 



moo^ tbe Second* 35 

Change the; fixed sadness of his tender cheek; 
So we may choose for Love with Love's own 

eyes, 
And cheat his Highness into happiness." 
This thing seemed good ; wherefore upon a 

day 
The criers bade the young and beautiful 
Pass to the palace, for 'twas in command 
To hold a court of pleasure, and the Prince 
Would give the prizes, something rich for all, 
The richest for the fairest judged. So flocked 
Kapilavastu's maidens to the gate, 
Each with her dark hair newly smoothed and 

bound, 
Eyelashes lustred with the soorma-stick, 
Fresh-bathed and scented ; all in shawls and 

cloths 
Of gayest ; slender hands and feet new-stained 
With crimson, and the tilka-spots stamped 

bright. 
Fair show it was of all those Indian girls 
Slow-pacing past the throne with large black 

eyes 
Fixed on the ground, for when they saw the 

Prince 
More than the awe of Majesty made beat 
Their fluttering hearts, he sate so passionless, 



36 tTbe Xi0bt ot Bsia. 

Gentle, but so beyond them. Each maid took 
With down-dropped lids her gift, afraid to 

gaze; 
And if the people hailed some lovelier one 
Beyond her rivals worthy royal smiles. 
She stood like a scared antelope to touch 
The gracious hand, then fled to join her mates 
Trembling at favor, so divine he seemed, 
So high and saint-like and above her world. 
Thus filed they, one bright maid after another, 
The city's flowers, and all this beauteous 

march 
Was ending and the prizes spent, when last 
Came young Yasodhara, and they that stood 
Nearest Siddartha saw the princely boy 
Start, as the radiant girl approached. A form 
Of heavenly mould ; a gait like Parvati's ; 
Eyes like a hind's in love-time, face so fair 
Words cannot paint its spell ; and she alone 
Gazed full — folding her palms across her 

breasts — 
On the boy's gaze, her stately neck unbent. 
" Is there a gift for me ? " she asked, and 

smiled. 
" The gifts are gone," the Prince replied, " yet 

take 
This for amends, dear sister, of whose grace 



JBooft tbe SeconD. 37 

Our happy city boasts ; " therewith he loosed 
The emerald necklet from his throat, and 

clasped 
Its green beads round her dark and silk-soft 

waist ; 
And their eyes mixed, and from the look 

sprang love. 

Long after — when enlightenment was full — • 
Lord Buddha — being prayed why thus his 

heart 
Took fire at first glance of the Sakya girl, 
Answered, " We were not strangers, as to us 
And all it seemed ; in ages long gone by 
A hunter's son, playing with forest girls 
By Yamun's springs, where Nandadevi stands, 
Sate umpire while they raced beneath the firs 
Like hares at eve that run their playful rings ; 
One with flower-stars crowned he, one with 

long plumes 
Plucked from eyed pheasant and the jungle- 
cock. 
One with fir-apples ; but who ran the last 
Came first for him, and unto her the boy 
Gave a tame fawn and his heart's love beside, 
And in the wood they lived many glad years, 
And in the wood they undivided died. 



38 ^be Xigbt ut Bsia. 

Lo ! as hid seed shoots after rainless years, 
So good and evil, pains and pleasures, hates 
And loves, and all dead deeds, come forth 

again 
Bearing bright leaves or dark, sweet fruit or 

sour. 
Thus I was he and she Yasodhara ; 
And while the wheel of birth and death turns 

round. 
That which hath been must be between us 

two." 

But they who watched the Prince at prize- 
giving 
Saw and heard all, and told the careful King 
How sate Siddartha heedless, till there passed 
Great Suprabuddha's child, Yasodhara : 
And how — at sudden sight of her — he changed, 
And how she gazed on him and he on her, 
And of the jewel-gift, and what beside 
Passed in their speaking glance. 

The fond King smiled : 
" Look ! we have found a lure ; take counsel 

now 
To fetch therewith our falcon from the clouds 
Let messengers be sent to ask the maid 
In marriage- for my son." But it was law 



:fiSoo!i tbe SeconD. 39 

With Sakyas, when any asked a maid 

Of noble house, fair and desirable, 

He must make good his skill in martial arts 

Against all suitors who should challenge it ; 

Nor might this custom break itself for kings. 

Therefore her father spake : " Say to the 

King, 
The child is sought by princes far and near ; 
If thy most gentle son can bend the bow, 
Sway sword, and back a horse better than 

they," 
Best would he be in all and best to us : 
But how shall this be, with his cloistered 

ways ? 
Then the King's heart was sore, for now the 

Prince 
Begged sweet Yasodhara for wife — in vain, 
With Devadatta foremost at the bow, 
Ardjuna master of all fiery steeds. 
And Nanda chief in sword-play ; but the Prince 
Laughed low and said, " These things, too, I 

have learned ; 
Make proclamation that thy son will meet 
All comers at their chosen games. I think 
I shall not lose my love for such as these." 
So 'twas given forth that on the seventh day 
'^he Prince Siddartha summoned whoso would 



40 Zbc %iQbt of B6ia. 

To match with him in feats of manliness, 
The victor's crown to be Yasodhara. 

Therefore, upon the seventh day, there went 
The Sakya lords and town and country round 
Unto the maidan ; and the maid went too 
Amid her kinsfolk, carried as a bride. 
With music, and with litters gayly dight, 
And gold-horned oxen, flower-caparisoned. 
Whom Devadatta claimed, of royal line, 
And Nanda and Ardjuna, noble both. 
The flower of all youths there, till the Prince 

came 
Riding his white horse Kantaka, which neighed, 
Astonished at this great strange world without : 
Also Siddartha gazed with wondering eyes 
On all those people born beneath the throne, 
Otherwise housed than kings, otherwise fed, 
And yet so like — perchance — in joys and 

griefs. 
But when the Prince saw sweet Yasodhara, 
Brightly he smiled, and drew his silken rein, 
Leaped to the earth from Kantaka's broad 

back, 
And cried, " He is not worthy of this pearl 
Who is not worthiest ; let my rivals prove 
If I have dared too much in seeking her." 



JBooft tbe SeconD. 41 

Then Nanda challenged for the arrow-test 
And set a brazen drum six gows away, 
Ardjuna six and Devadatta eight ; 
But Prince Siddartha bade them set his drum 
Ten gows from off the line, until it seemed 
A cowry-shell for target. Then they loosed, 
And Nanda pierced his drum, Ardjuna his. 
And Devadatta drove a well-aimed shaft 
Through both sides of his mark, so that the 

crowd 
Marvelled and cried ; and sweet Yasodhara 
Dropped the gold sari o'er her fearful eyes, 
Lest she should see her Prince's arrow fail. 
But he, taking their bow of lacquered cane, 
With sinews bound, and strung with silverwire 
Which none but stalwart arms could draw a 

span, 
Thrummed it — low laughing — drew the twisted 

string 
Till the horns kissed, and the thick belly 

snapped : 
That is for play, not love," he said ; " hath none 
A bow more fit for Sakya lords to use ? " 
And one said, " There is Sinhahanu's bow, 
Kept in the temple since we know not when, 
Which none can string, nor draw if it be 

«trung»" 



42 ^be Xfybt of Bsfa. 

** Fetch me," he cried, " that weapon of a 

man ! " 
They brought the ancient bow, wrought of 

black steel, 
Laid with gold tendrils on its branching curves 
Like bison-horns ; and twice Siddartha tried 
Its strength across his knee, then spake — 

" Shoot now 
With this, my cousins ! " but they could not 

bring 
The stubborn arms a hand's-breadth nigher 

use ; 
Then the Prince, lightly leaning, bent the bow, 
Slipped home the eye upon the notch, and 

twanged 
Sharply the cord, which, like an eagle's wing 
Thrilling the air, sang forth so clear and loud 
That feeble folk at home that day inquired 
'* What is this sound ? " and people answered 

them, 
" It is the sound of Sinhahdnu*s bow, 
Which the King's son has strung and goes to 

shoot ; " 
Then fitting fair a shaft, he drew and loosed, 
And the keen arrow clove the sky, anl drave 
Right through the farthest drum, nor stayed its 

flight, 



JSooft tbc seconD. 43 

But skimmed the plain beyond, past reach of 
eye. 

Then Devadatta challenged with the sword, 
And clove a Talas-tree six fingers thick ; 
Ardjuna seven ; and Nanda cut through nine; 
But two such stems together grew, and both 
Siddartha's blade shred at one flashing stroke, 
Keen, but so smooth that the straight trunks 

upstood, 
And Nanda cried, " His edge turned I " and 

the maid 
Trembled anew seeing the trees erect, 
Until the Devas of the air, who watched, 
Blew light breaths from the south, and both 

green crowns 
Crashed in the sand, clean-felled. 

Then brought they steeds, 
High-mettled, nobly-bred, and three times 

scoured 
Around the maidan, but white Kantaka 
Left even the fleetest far behind — so swift. 
That ere the foam fell from his mouth to earth 
Twenty spear-lengths he flew; but Nanda 

said, 
** We too might win with such as Kantaka ; 
Bring an unbroken horse, and let men see 



44 ^be Xfgbt of 2l6(a. 

Who best can back him." So the syces brought 
A stallion dark as night, led by three chains, 
Fierce-eyed, with nostrils wide and tossing 

mane. 
Unshod, unsaddled, for no rider yet 
Had crossed him. Three times each young 

Sakya 
Sprung to his mighty back, but the hot steed 
Furiously reared, and flung them to the plain, 
In dust and shame ; only Ardjuna held 
His seat awhile, and, bidding loose the chains, 
Lashed the black flank, and shook the bit, and 

held 
The proud jaws fast with grasp of master-hand, 
So that in storms of wrath and rage and fear 
The savage stallion circled once the plain, 
Half-tamed ; but sudden turned with naked 

teeth, 
Gripped by the foot Ardjuna, tore him down. 
And would have slain him, but the grooms 

ran in 
Fettering the maddened beast. Then all men 

cried, 
" Let not Siddartha meddle with this Bhut, 
Whose liver is a tempest, and his blood 
Red flame ; " but the Prince said, " Let go the 

chains. 



JBooft tbc Second, >^5 

Give me his forelock only," which he held 
With quiet grasp, and, speaking some low 

word, 
Laid his right palm across the stallion's eyes, 
And drew it gently down the angry face, 
And all along the neck and panting flanks, 
Till men astonished saw the night-black horse 
Sink his fierce crest and stand subdued and 

meek, 
As though he knew our Lord and worshipped 

him. 
Nor stirred he while Siddartha mounted, then 
Went soberly to touch of knee and rein 
Before all eyes, so that the people said, 
*' Strive no more, for Siddartha is the best," 

And all the suitors answered " He is best ! " 
And Suprabuddha, father of the maid. 
Said, " It was in our hearts to find thee best, 
Being dearest, yet what magic taught thee 

more 
Of manhood 'mid thy rose-bowers and thy 

dreams 
Than war and chase and world's work bring 

to these ? 
Bu«, wear, fair Prince, the treasure thou hast 

won." 



46 ^be Xlabt of Bsfa. 

Then at a word the lovely Indian girl 

Rose from her place above the throng, and 

took 
A crown of mogra-flowers and lightly drew 
The veil of black and gold across her brow, 
Proud pacing past the youths, until she came 
To where Siddartha stood in grace divine, 
New lighted from the night-dark steed, which 

bent 
Its strong rieck meekly underneath his arm. 
Before the Prince lowly she bowed, and bared 
Her face celestial beaming with glad love ; 
Then on his neck she hung the fragrant 

wreath, 
And on his breast she laid her perfect head, 
Aud stooped to touch his feet with proud glad 

eyes. 
Saying, " Dear Prince, behold me, who am 

thine ! " 
And all the throng rejoiced, seeing them pass, 
Hand fast in hand, and heart beating with 

heart. 
The veil of black and gold drawn close again.. 

Long after — when enlightenment was come — 
They prayed Lord Buddha touching all, and 
why 



^asooft tbe ScconD. 47 

She wore this black and gold, and stepped so 

proud. 
And the World-honored answered, " Unto me 
This was unknown, albeit it seemed half- 
known ; 
For while the wheel of birth and death turns 

round, 
Past things and thoughts, and buried lives 

come back. 
I now remember, myriad rains ago. 
What time I roamed Himala's hanging woods, 
A tiger, with my striped and hungry kind ; 
I, who am Buddh, couched in the kusa grass 
Gazing with green blinked eyes upon the 

herds 
Which pastured near and nearer to their death 
Round my day-lair ; or underneath the stars 
I roamed for prey, savage, insatiable. 
Sniffing the paths for track of man and deer. 
Amid the beasts that were my fellows then, 
Met in deep jungle or by reedy jheel, 
A tigress, comeliest of the forest, set 
The males at war; her hide was lit with gold, 
Black-bro dered like the veil Yasodhara 
Wore for me ; hot the strife waxed in that 

wood 
With tooth and claw, while underneath a neem 



48 tTbe %iQbt of Bsla. 

The fair beast watched us bleed, thus fiercel) 
wooed. 

And I remember, at the end she came 
Snarling past this and that torn forest-lord 
Which I had conquered, and with fawning 

jaws 
Licked my quick-heaving flank, and with me 

went 
Into the wild with proud steps, amorously. 
The wheel of birth and death turns low and 

high." 

Therefore the maid was given unto the 

Prince 
A willing spoil; and when the stars were 

good — 
Mesha, the Red Ram, being Lord of heaven — 
The marriage-feast was kept, as Sakyas use, 
The golden gadi set, the carpet spread, 
The wedding garlands hung, the arm-threads 

tied. 
The sweet-cake broke, the rice and attar 

thrown. 
The two straws floated on the reddened milk, 
Which, coming close, betokened love till 

death;" 
The seven steps taken thrice around the fire; 



JBooft tbe Second. 49 

The gifts bestowed on holy men, the alms 
And temple offerings made, the mantras sung, 
The garments of the bride and bridegroom 

tied. 
Then the grey father spake : " Worshipful 

Prince, 
She that was ours henceforth is only thine ; 
Be good to her, who hath her life in thee." 
Wherewith they brought home sweet Yaso- 

dhara, 
With songs and trumpets, to the Prince's 

arms, 
And love was all in all. 

Yet not to love 
Aione trusted the King ; love's prison-house 
Stately and beautiful he bade them build, 
So that in all the earth no marvel was 
Like Vishramvan, the Prince's pleasure-place. 
Midway in those wide palace-grounds there 

rose 
A verdant hill whose base Rohini bathed, 
Murmuring adown from Himalay's broad feet, 
To bear its tribute into Gunga's waves. 
Southward a growth of tamarind trees and s^l, 
Thick set with pale sky-colored ganthi flowers, 
Shut out the world, save if the city's hum 
Came on the wind no harsher than when beea 

4 



50 ^be %iQbt of Bsfa. 

Hum out of sight in thickets. Northwards 

soared 
The stainless ramps of huge Himala's wall, 
Ranged in white ranks against the blue^ 

untrod, 
Infinite, wonderful — whose uplands vast, 
And lifted universe of crest and crag, 
Shoulder and shelf, green slope and icy horn, 
Riven ravine, and splintered precipice 
Led climbing thought higher and higher, until 
It seemed to stand in heaven and speak with 

gods. 
Beneath the snows dark forests spread, sharp 

laced 
With leaping cataracts and veiled with clouds : 
Lower grew rose-oaks and the great fir groves 
Where echoed pheasant's call and panther's 

cry, 
Clatter of wild sheep on the stones, and 

scream 
Of circling eagles : under these the plam 
Gleamed like a praying-carpet at the foot 
Of those divinest altars. Fronting this 
The builders set the bright pavilion up, 
Fair-planted on the terraced hill, with towers 
On either flank and pillared cloisters round. 
Its beams were carved with stories of old time— 



:fi5ooft tbc SeconD. 51 

Radha and Krishna and the sylvan girls — 
Sita and Hanuman and Draupadi ; 
And on the middle porch God Ganesha, 
With disc and hook — to bring wisdom and 

wealth — 
Propitious sate, wreathing his sidelong trunk 
By winding ways of garden and of court 
The inner gate was reached, of marble 

wrought, 
White with pink veins ; the lintel lazuli. 
The threshold alabaster, and the doors 
Sandal-wood, cut in pictured panelling ; 
Whereby to lofty halls and shadowy bowers 
Passed the delighted foot, on stately stairs, 
Through latticed galleries, 'neath painted 

roofs <» 
And clustering columns, where cool fountains 

— fringed 
With lotus and nelumbo — danced, and fish 
Gleamed through their crystal, scarlet, gold, 

and blue. 
Great-eyed gazelles in sunny alcoves browsed 
The blown red roses ; birds of rainbow wing 
Fluttered among the palms ; doves, green and 

grey, 
Built their safe nests on gilded cornices; 
Over the shining pavements peacocks drew 



52 ^be Xifibt of 2l6ia. 

The splendors of their trains, sedately watched 
By milk-white herons and the small house- 
owls. 
The plum-necked parrots swung from fruit to 

fruit ; 
The yellow sunbirds whirred from bloom to 

bloom, 
The timid lizards on the lattice basked 
Fearless, tlie squirrels ran to feed from hand, 
For all was peace : the shy black snake, that 

gives 
Fortune to households, sunned his sleepy coils 
Under the moon-flowers, where the musk-deer 

played. 
And brown-eyed monkeys chattered to the 

crows. 
And all this house of love was peopled fair 
With sweet attendance, so that in each part 
With lovely sights were gentle faces found. 
Soft speech and willing service, each one glad 
To gladden, pleased at pleasure, proud to 

obey; 
Till life glided beguiled, like a smooth stream 
Banked by perpetual flow'rs, Yasodhara 
Queen of the enchanting Court. 

But innermost 
Beyond the richness of those hundred halls, 



J5ooft tbc SeconD. 53 

A secret chamber lurked, where skill bad 

spent 
All lovely fantasies to lull the mind. 
The entrance of it was a cloistered square — 
Roofed to the sky, and in the midst a tank— 
Of milky marble built, and laid with slabs 
Of milk-white marble ; bordered round the 

tank 
And on the steps, and all along the frieze 
With tender inlaid work of agate-stones. 
Cool as to tread in summer-time on snows 
It was to loiter there ; the sunbeams dropped 
Their gold, and, passing into porch and niche, 
Softened to shadows, silvery, pale, and dim, 
As if the very Day paused and grew Eve 
In love and silence at that bower's gate ; 
For there beyond the gate the chamber was, 
Beautiful, sweet ; a wonder of the world ! 
Soft light from perfumed lamps through 

windows fell 
Of nakre and stained stars of lucent film 
On golden cloths outspread, and silken beds, 
And heavy splendor of the purdah's fringe, 
Lifted to take only the loveliest in. 
Here, whether it was night or day, none knew, 
For always streamed that softened light, mort 

bright 



54 ^bc OLigbt ot Bsia. 

Than sunrise, but as tender as the eve*s ; 
And always breathed sweet airs, more jojr 

giving 
Than morning's, but as cool as midnight's 

breath ; 
And night and day lutes sighed, and night and 

day 
Delicious foods were spread, and dewy fruits, 
Sherbets new chilled with snows of Himalay, 
And sweetmeats made of subtle daintiness, 
With sweet tree-milk in its own ivory cup. 
And night and day served there a chosen 

band 
Of nautch girls, cup-bearers, and cymballers. 
Delicate, dark-browed ministers of love, 
Who fanned the sleeping eyes of the happy 

Prince, 
And when he waked, led back his thoughts to 

bliss 
With music whispering through the blooms, 

and charm 
Of amorous songs and dreamy dances, linked 
By chime of ankle-bells and wave of arms 
And silver vina-strings ; while essences 
Of musk and champak and the blue haze 

spread 
From burning spices soothed his soul again 



:Boo1\ tbe Second* 55 

To drowse by sweet Yasodhara ; and thus 
Siddirtha lived forgetting. 

Furthermore, 
The King commanded that within those walla 
No mention should be made of death or age, 
Sorrow, or pain, or sickness. If one drooped 
In the lovely Court — her dark glance dim, her 

feet 
Faint in the dance — the guiltless criminal 
Passed forth an exile from that Paradise, 
Lest he should see and suffer at her woe. 
Bright-eyed intendants watched to execute 
Sentence on such as spake of the harsh world 
Without, where aches and plagues were, tears 

and fears. 
And wail of mourners, and grim fume of pyres, 
'Twas treason if a thread of silver strayed 
In tress of singing-girl or nautch-dancer . 
And every dawn the dying rose was plucked, 
The dead leaves hid, all evil sights removed : 
For said the King, "If he shall pass hia 

youth 
Far from such things as move to wistfulness. 
And brooding on the empty eggs of thought. 
The shadow of this fate, too vast for man, 
May fade, belike, and I shall see him grovj 
To that great stature of fair sovereignty 



56 C:bc %iQbt of 'Bsia, 

When he shall rule all lands — if he will rule-* 
The King of kings and glory of his time." 

Wherefore, around that pleasant prison* 

house — 
Where love was gaoler and delights its bars, 
But far removed from sight — the King bade 

build 
A massive wall, and in the wall a gate 
With brazen folding-doors, which but to roll 
Back on their hinges asked a hundred arms ; 
Also the noise of that prodigious gate 
Opening, was heard full half a yojana. 
And inside this another gate he made. 
And yet within another — through the three 
Must one pass if he quit that Pleasure-house. 
Three mighty gates there were, bolted and 

barred. 
And over each was set a faithful watch ; 
And the King's order said, " Suffer no man 
To pass the gates, though he should be the 

Prince : 
This on your lives — even though it be my son.* 



§00fe tU WUtL 



In which calm home of happy life and love 
Ligged our Lord Buddha, knowing not of woe, 
Nor want, nor pain, nor plague, nor age, nor 

death, 
Save as when sleepers roam dim seas in 

dreams, 
And land awearied on the shores of day. 
Bringing strange merchandise from that black 

voyage. 
Thus ofttimes when he lay with gentle head 
Lulled on the dark breasts of Yasodhara, 
Her fond hands fanning slow his sleeping lids, 
He would start up and cry, " My world ! Oh, 

world ! 
I hear ! I know ! I come ! " And she would 

ask, 
" What ails my Lord ? " with large eyes terror- 
struck ; 
For at such times the pity in his look 
Was awful, and his visage like a god's. 



57 



58 Zbe %.Qht of asia. 

Then would he smile again to stay her tears, 
And bid the vinas sound ; but once they set 
A stringed gourd on the sill, there where the 

wind 
Could linger o'er its notes and play at will — 
Wild music makes the wind on silver strings — 
And those v/ho lay around heard only that ; 
But Prince Siddartha heard the Devas play, 
A.nd to his ears they sang such words as 

these : — 



We are the voices of the wandering wind, 
Which moan for rest and rest can never find ; 
Lo ! as the wind is so is mortal life, 
A moon, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife. 

Wherefore and whence we are ye cannot know, 
Nor where life springs nor whither life doth go ; 
We are as ye are, ghosts from the inane. 
What pleasure have we of our changeful pain ? 

What pleasure hast thou of thy changeless bliss r 
Nay, if love lasted, there were joy in this ; 
But life's way is the wind's way, all these things 
Are but brief voices breathed on shifting strings. 

O Maya's son ! because we roam the earth 
Moan we upon these strings ; we make no mirth. 
So many woes we see in many lands, 
So many streaming eyes and wringing hands. 



JBook tbe ZbivO, 59 

Yet mock we while we wail, for, could they know. 
This life they cling to is but empty show ; 
'Twere all as well to bid a cloud to stand, 
Or hold a running river with the hand. 

But thou that art to save, thine hour is nigh I 
The sad world waiteth in its misery, 
The blind world stumbleth on its round of painj 
Rise, Maya's child ! wake ! slumber not again 1 

We are the voices of the wandering wind : 
Wander thou, too, O Prince, thy rest to find ; 
Leave love for love of lovers, for woe's sake 
Quit state for sorrow, and deliverance make. 

So sigh we, passing o'er the silver strings, 

To thee who know'st not yet of earthly things; 

So say we ; mocking, as we pass away, 

These lovely shadows wherewith thou dost play. 

Thereafter it befell he sate at eve 
Amid his beauteous Court, holding the hand 
Of sweet Yasodhara, and some maid told — - 
With breaks of music when her rich voice 

dropped — 
An ancient tale to speed the hour of dusk, 
Of love, and of a magic horse, and lands 
Wonderful, distant, where pale peoples dwelled, 
And where the sun at night sank into seas. 
Then spake he, sighing, " Chitra brings me 

back 



6o Zbc XiQbt of Bsfa. 

The wind's song in the strings with that fail 

tale. 
Give her, Yasodhara, thy pearl for thanks. 
But thou, my pearl ! is there so wide a world ? 
Is there a land which sees the great sun roll 
Into the waves, and are there hearts like ours, 
Countless, unknown, not happy — it may be — 
Whom we might succor if we knew of them ? 
Ofttimes I marvel, as the Lord of day 
Treads from the east his kingly road of gold, 
Who first on the world's edge hath hailed his 

beam, 
The children of the morning ; oftentimes. 
Even in thine arms and on thy breasts, bright 

wife, 
Sore have I panted, at the sun's decline. 
To pass with him into that crimson west 
And see the peoples of the evening. 
There must be many we should love — how 

else ? 
Now have I in this hour an ache, at last, 
Thy soft lips cannot kiss away : oh, girl I 
O Chitra ! you that know of fairyland ! 
Where tether they that swift steed of the tale ? 
My palace for one day upon his back, 
To ride and ride and see the spread of tht 

earth I 



OBooft tbe c:blr&. 6i 

Nay, if I had yon callow vulture's plumes-^ 
The carrion heir of wider realms than mine — 
How would I stretch for topmost Himalay, 
Light where the rose-gleam lingers on those 

snows, 
And strain my gaze with searching what is 

round ! 
Why have I never seen and never sought ? 
Tell me what lies beyond our brazen gates." 

Then one replied, ** The city first, fair 

Prince ! 
The temples, and the gardens, and the groves, 
And then the fields, and afterwards fresh fields, 
With nullahs, maidans, jungle, koss on koss ; 
And next King Bimbasara's realm, and then 
The vast flat world, with crores on crores of 

folk." 
"Good," said Siddartha, " let the word be sent 
That Channa yoke my chariot — at noon 
To-morrow I shall ride and see beyond.'* 

Whereof they told the King : " Our Lord- 
thy son. 
Wills that his chariot be yoked at noon. 
That he may ride abroad and see mankind.'* 



62 tlbe Xisbt of Bsia. 

" Yea ! " spake the careful King, " 'tis tiniQ 

he see ! 
But let the criers go about and bid 
My city deck itself, so there be met 
No noisome sight ; and let none blind oi 

maimed, 
None that is sick or stricken deep in years, 
No leper, and no feeble folk come forth.'* 
Therefore the stones were swept, and up and 

down 
The water-carriers sprinkled all the streets 
From spirting skins, the housewives scattered 

fresh 
Red powder on their thresholds, strung new 

wreaths. 
And trimmed the tulsi-bush before their doors. 
The paintings on the walls were heightened up 
With liberal brush, the trees set thick with flags, 
The idols gilded ; in the four-went ways 
Suryadeva and the great gods shone 
*Mid shrines of leaves ; so that the city seemed 
A capital of some enchanted land. 
Also the criers passed, with drum and gong, 
Proclaiming loudly, " Ho ! all citizens. 
The King commands that there be seen to-daj 
No evil sight : let no one blind or maimed, 
None that is sick or stricken deep in years, 



JBooR tbc G:blrD. 63 

No leper, and no feeble folk go forth. 

Let none, too, burn his dead nor bring them 

Oilt 

Till nightfall. Thus Suddhodana commands." 

So all was comely and the houses trim 
Throughout Kapilavastu, while the Prince 
Came forth in painted car, which two steers 

drew. 
Snow-white, with swinging dewlaps and huge 

humps 
Wrinkled against the carved and lacquered 

yoke. 
Goodly it was to mark the people's joy 
Greeting their Prince ; and glad Sidd^rtha 

waxed 
At sight of all those liege and friendly folk 
Bright-clad and laughing as if life were good. 
" Fair is the world," he said, " it likes me well ! 
And light and kind these men that are not 

kings, 
And sweet my sisters here, who toil and tend ; 
What have I done for these to make them thus ? 
Why, if I love them, should those children 

know ? 
I pray take up yon pretty Sakya boy 
Who flung us flowers, and let him ride with me. 



64 ^be Xiabt of Bsfa, 

How good it is to reign in realms like this ! 
How simple pleasure is, if these be pleased 
Because I come abroad ! How many things 
I need not if such little households hold 
Enough to make our city full of smiles ! 
Drive, Channa ! through the gates, and let mt 

see 
More of this gracious world I have not known." 

So passed they through the gates, a joyous 

crowd 
Thronging about the wheels, whereof some ran 
Before the oxen, throwing wreaths, some 

stroked 
Their silken flanks, some brought them rice 

and cakes. 
All crying, " Jai f jai ! for our noble Prince ! '* 
Thus all the path was kept with gladsome looks 
And filled with fair sights — for the King's 

word was 
That such should be — when midway in the 

road. 
Slow tottering from the hovel where he hid, 
Crept forth a wretch in rags, haggard and 

foul. 
An old, old man, whose shrivelled skin, sua« 

tanned, 



Clung like a beast's hide to his fleshless bones. 
Bent was his back with load of many days, 
His eyepits red with rust of ancient tears. 
His dim orbs blear with rheum, his toothless 

jaws 
Wagging with palsy and the fright to see 
So many and such joy. One skinny hand 
Clutched a worn staff to prop his quavering 

limbs. 
And one was pressed upon the ridge of ribs 
Whence came in gasps the heavy painful 

breath. 
* Alms ! " moaned he, " give, good people ! for 

I die 
To-morrow or the next day ! " then the cough 
Choked him, but still he stretched his palm, 

and stood 
Blinking, and groaning 'mid his spasms, 

'^ Alms ! " 
Then those around had wrenched his feeble 

feet 
Aside, and thrust him from the road again, 
Saying, " The Prince ! dost see ? get to thy 

lair ! " 
But that Siddartka cried, " Let be ! let be I 
Channa ! what thing is this who seems a marii 
Yet surely only seems, being so bowed, 

5 



66 ^be %iQbt ot Bsia. 

So miserable, so horrible, so sad ? 

Are men born sometimes thus ? What meaneth 

he 
Moaning * to-morrow or next day I die ? * 
Finds he no food that so his bones jut forth ? 
What woe hath happened to this piteous one ? ** 
Then answer made the charioteer, " Sweet 

Prince I 
This is no other than an aged man. 
Some fourscore years ago his back was 

straight, 
His eye bright, and his body goodly : now 
The thievish years have sucked his sap away, 
Pillaged his strength and filched his will and 

wit; 
His lamp has lost its oil, the wick burns black ; 
What life he keeps is one poor lingering spark 
Which flickers for the finish : such is age ; 
Why should your Highness heed ? " Then 

spake the Prince — 
" But shall this come to others, or to all, 
Or is it rare that one should be as he ? " 
" Most noble," answered Channa, " even as he. 
Will all these grow if they shall live so long.** 
" But," quoth the Prince, " if I shall live as 

long 
Shall I be thus ; and if Yasodhara 



:©oo?; tbe Zbitt>. 67 

Live fourscore years, is this old age for her, 

Jalini, little Hasta, Gautami, 

And Gunga, and the others?** "Yea, great 

Sir ! " 
The Charioteer replied. Then spake the 

Prince : 
*' Turn back, and drive me to my house again I 
I have seen that I did not think to see." 

Which pondering, to his beauteous Court 

returned 
Wistful Sidddrtha, sad of main and mood ; 
Nor tasted he the white cakes nor the fruits 
Spread for the evening feast, nor once looked up 
While the best palace-dancers strove to charm : 
Nor spake — save one sad thing — when wofully 
Yasodhara sank to his feet and wept, 
Sighing, " Hath not my Lord comfort in me ? " 
" Ah, Sweet ! " he said, " such comfort that 

my soul 
Aches, thinking it must end, for it will end, 
And we shall both grow old, Yasodhara ! 
Loveless, unlovely, weak, and old, and bowed. 
Nay, though we locked up love and life with 

lips 
So close that night and day our breaths grew 

one. 



6S ^bc Xfgbt of Bsfa. 

Time would thrust in between to filch away 
My passion and thy grace, as black Nighl 

steals 
The rose-gleams from yon peak, which fade to 

grey 
And are not seen to fade. This have I found, 
And all my heart is darkened with its dread, 
And all my heart is fixed to think how Love 
Might save its sweetness from the slayer, Time, 
Who makes men old." So through that night 

he sate 
Sleepless, uncomforted. 

And all that night 
The King Suddhodana dreamed troublous 

dreams. 
The first fear of his vision was a flag 
Broad, glorious, glistening with a golden sun, 
The mark of Indra ; but a strong wind blew, 
Rending its folds divine, and dashing it 
Into the dust ; whereat a concourse came 
Of shadowy Ones, who took the spoiled silk 

up 
And bore it eastward from the city gates. 
The second fear was ten huge elephants, 
With silver tusks and feet that shook the earth, 
Trampling the southern road in mighty march , 



3Qoo\\ tbe CbirD. 69 

And he who sate upon the foremost beast 
Was the King's son — the others followed him. 
The third fear of the vision was a car, 
Shining with blinding light, which four steeda 

drew, 
Snorting white smoke and champing fiery foam ; 
And in the car the Prince Siddartha sate. 
The fourth fear was a wheel which turned and 

turned. 
With nave of burning gold and jewelled spokes, 
And strange things written on the binding tire^ 
Which seemed both fire and music as it whirled 
The fifth fear was a mighty drum, set down 
Midway between the city and the hills, 
On which the Prince beat with an iron mace, 
So that the sound pealed like a thunderstorm. 
Rolling around the sky and far away. 
The sixth fear was a tower, which rose and rose 
High o'er the city till its stately head 
Shone crowned with clouds, and on the top the 

Prince 
Stood, scattering from both hands, this way 

and that, 
Gems of most lovely light, as if it rained 
Jacynths and rubies; and the whole world 

came, 
Striving to seize those treasures as they fell 



70 ^be %iQm ot 2lsta» 

Towards the four quarters. But the seventh 

fear was 
A noise of wailing, and behold six men 
Who wept and gnashed their teeth, and laid 

their palms 
Upon their mouths, walking disconsolate. 

These seven fears made the vision of his 

sleep, 
But none of all his wisest dream-readers 
Could tell their meaning. Then the King was 

wroth, 
Saying, " There cometh evil to my house, 
And none of ye have wit to help me know 
What the great gods portends sending me this." 
So in the city men went sorrowful 
Because the King had dreamed seven signs of 

fear 
Which none could read ; b"t to the gate there 

came 
An aged man, in robe of deer-skin clad, 
By guise a hermit, known to none ; he cried, 
** Bring me before the King, for I can read 
The vision of his sleep ; " who, when he heard 
The sevenfold mysteries of the midnight dreami 
Bowed reverent and said, " O Maharaj ! 
I hail this favored House, whence shall arise 



:fBooft tbe Zbix^* 71 

A wider-reaching splendor than the sun's! 
Lo I all these seven fears are seven joys, 
Whereof the first, where thou didst see a flag— 
Broad, glorious, gilt with Indra's badge — cast 

down 
And carried out, did signify the end 
Of old faiths and beginning of the new. 
For there is change with gods not less than 

men. 
And as the days pass kalpas pass at length. 
The ten great elephants that shook the earth 
The ten great gifts of wisdom signify, 
In strength whereof the Prince shall quit bit 

state 
And shake the world with passage of the Truth. 
The four flame-breathing horses of the car 
Are those four fearless virtues which shall 

bring 
Thy son from doubt and gloom to gladsome 

light; 
The wheel that turned with nave of burning 

gold 
Was that most precious Wheel of perfect Law 
Which he shail turn in sight of all the world* 
The mighty drum whereon the Prince did beatf 
Till the sound filled all lands, doth signify 
The thunder of the preaching of the Word 



72 ^be XlQbt of B6ia. 

Which he shall preach ; the tower that grew 

to heaven 
The growing of the Gospel of this Buddh 
Sets forth ; and those rare jewels scattered 

thence 
The untold treasures are of that good Law 
To gods and men dear and desirable. 
Such is the interpretation of the tower ; 
But for those six men weeping with shut 

mouths, 
They are the six chief teachers whom thy son 
Shall, with bright truth and speech unan^ 

swerable. 
Convince of foolishness. O King ! rejoice ; 
The fortune of my Lord the Prince is more 
Than kingdoms, and his hermit-rags will be 
Beyond fine cloths of gold. This was thy 

dream ! 
And in seven nights and days these things 

shall fall." 
So spake the holy man, and lowly made 
The eight prostrations, touching thrice the 

ground ; 
Then turned and passed ; but when the King 

bade send 
A rich gift after him, the messengers 
Brought word, "We came to where he en 

tered in 



JSooft tbe Zbivt), 73 

At Chandra's temple, but within was none 

Save a grey owl which fluttered from the 
shrine." 

The gods come sometimes thus. 

But the sad King 

Marvelled, and gave command that new de- 
lights 

Be compassed to enthrall Siddartha's heart 

Amid those dancers of his pleasure-house, 

Also he set at all the brazen doors 

A doubled guard. 

Yet who shall shut out Fate ? 

For once again the spirit of the Prince 
Was moved to see this world beyond his gates. 
This life of man, so pleasant if its waves 
Ran not to waste and woful finishing 
In Time's dry sands. " I pray you let me view 
Our city as it is," such was his prayer 
To King Suddhodana. "Your Majesty 
In tender heed hath warned the folk before 
To put away ill things and common sights, 
And make their faces glad to gladden me, 
And all the causeways gay ; yet have I learned 
This is not daily life, and if I stand 
Nearest, my father, to the realm and thee. 



^4 ^^c 'Light ot Bsia. 

Fain would I know the people and the streets. 
Their simple usual ways, and workday deeds, 
And lives which those men live who are not 

kings. 
Give me good leave, dear Lord ! to pass un* 

known 
Beyond my happy gardens ; I shall come 
The more contented to their peace again, 
Or wiser, father, if not well content. 
Therefore, I pray thee, let me go at will 
To-morrow, with my servants, through the 

streets." 
And the King said, among his Ministers, 
"Belike this second flight may mend the first. 
Note how the falcon starts at every sight 
New from his hood, but what a quiet eye 
Cometh of freedom ; let my son see all, 
And bid them bring me tidings of his mind." 

Thus on the morrow, when the noon was 

come. 
The Prince and Channa passed beyond the 

gates, 
Which opened to the signet of the King ; 
Yet knew not they who rolled the great doors 

back 
It was the King's son in that merchant's robe^ 



:fiSook tbe ^birD. 75 

And in the clerkly dress his charioteer. 
Forth fared they by the common way afoot, 
Mingling with all the Sakya citizens, 
Seeing the glad and sad things of the town : 
The painted streets alive with hum of noon, 
The traders cross-legged 'mid their spice and 

grain. 
The buyers with their money in the cloth. 
The war of words to cheapen this or that, 
The shout to clear the road, the huge stone 

wheels. 
The strong slow oxen and their rustling loads, 
The singing bearers with the palanquins, 
The broad-necked hamals sweating in the sun. 
The housewives bearing water from the well 
With balanced chatties, and athwart their hips 
The black-eyed babes ; the fly-swarmed sweet- 
meat shops, 
The weaver at his loom, the cotton-bow 
Twanging, the millstones grinding meal, the 

dogs 
Prowling for orts, the skilful armorer 
With tong and hammer linking shirts of mail, 
The blacksmith with a mattock and a spear 
Reddening together in his coals, the school 
Where round their Guru, in a grave half-moon, 
The Sdkya children sang the mantras through, 



76 ^bc Xifibt ot Bsia, 

And learned the greater and the lesser gods ; 
The dyers stretching waistcloths in the sun 
Wet from the vats — orange, and rose, and 

green ; 
The soldiers clanking past with swords and 

shields, 
The camel-drivers rocking on the humps. 
The Brahman proud, the martial Kshatriya, 
The humble toiling Sudra ; here a throng 
Gathered to watch some chattering snake- 
tamer 
Wind round his wrist the living jewellery 
Of asp and nag, or charm the hooded death 
To angry dance with drone of beaded gourd ; 
There a long line of drums and horns, which 

went. 
With steeds gay painted and silk canopies. 
To bring the young bride home ; and here a 

wife 
Stealing with cakes and garlands to the god 
To pray her husband's safe return from trade, 
Or beg a boy next birth ; hard by the booths 
Where the swart potters beat the noisy brass 
For lamps and lotas : thence, by temple walls 
A.nd gateways, to ine river ana tne bridge 
tJnder the city walls. 

These had they passed 



asooft tbe ^birD. 77 

When from the roadside moaned a mournful 

voice, 
" Help, masters ! lift me to my feet ; oh, help I 
Or I shall die before I reach my house ! " 
A stricken wretch it was, whose quivering 

frame. 
Caught by some deadly plague, lay in the dust 
Writhing, with fiery purple blotches specked; 
The chill sweat beaded on his brow, his mouth 
Was dragged awry with twitchings of sore pain, 
The wild eyes swam with inward agony. 
Gasping, he clutched the grass to rise, and rose 
Half-way, then sank, with quaking feeble 

limbs 
And scream of terror, crying, "Ah, the pain ! 
Good people, help ! " whereon Siddartha ran, 
Lifted the woful man with tender hands. 
With sweet looks laid the sick head on his 

knee. 
And while his soft touch comforted the wretch, 
Asked, " Brother, what is ill with thee ? what 

harm 
Hath fallen ? wherefore canst thou not arise ? 
Why is it, Channa, that he pants and moans, 
And gasps to speak and sighs so pitiful } " 
Then spake the charioteer: "Great Prince I 

this man 



78 ^be Xl0bt of Bsta. 

Is smitten with some pest ; his elements 
Are all confounded; in his veins the blood, 
Which ran a wholesome river, leaps and boils 
A fiery flood ; his heart, which kept good time, 
Beats like an ill-played drum-skin, quick and 

slow; 
His sinews slacken like a bow-string slipped; 
The strength is gone from ham, and loin, and 

neck, 
And all the grace and joy of manhood fled: 
This is a sick man with the fit upon him. 
See how he plucks and plucks to seize his grie^ 
And rolls his bloodshot orbs, and grinds his 

teeth. 
And draws his breath as if 'twere choking 

smoke. 
Lo ! now he would be dead, but shall not die 
Until the plague hath had its work in him. 
Killing the nerves which die before the life ; 
Then, when his strings have cracked with 

agony 
And all his bones are empty of the sense 
To ache, the plague will quit and light else- 
where. 
Oh, sir ! it is not good to hold him so ! 
The harm may pass, and strike thee, even 

thee." 



JBooft tbc ^bicD. 79 

But spake the Prince, still comforting the man, 
"And are there others, are there many thus ? 
Or might it be to me as now with him ? " 
*' Great Lord ! " answered the charioteer, " this 

comes 
In many forms to all men ; griefs and wounds, 
Sickness and tetters, palsies, leprosies, 
Hot fevers, watery wastings, issues, blains 
Befall all flesh and enter everywhere." 
*' Come such ills unobserved ? " the Prince 

inquired. 
And Channa said, " Like the sly snake they 

come 
That stings unseen ; like the striped murderer, 
Who waits to spring from the Karunda bush, 
Hiding beside the jungle path ; or like 
The lightning, striking these and sparing those, 
As chance may send." 

" Then all men live in fear ? " 
•* So live they. Prince ! " 

" And none can say, * I sleep 
Happy and whole to-night, and so shall 

wake ? ' " 
** None say it." 

" And the end of many aches, 
Which come unseen, and will come when they 

come, 



ho ITbc Xlgbt ot Bsia. 

Is this, a broken body and sad mind, 
And so old age ? " 

" Yea, if men last as long,* 
" But if they cannot bear their agonies, 
Or if they will not bear, and seek a term ; 
Or if they bear, and be, as this man is,' 
Too weak except for groans, and so still 

live, 
And growing old, grow older, then what 

end?" 
" They die, Prince." 

" Die ? " 
" Yea, at the last comes death, 
In whatsoever way, whatever hour. 
Some few grow old, most suffer and fall 

sick. 
But all must die — behold, where comes the 

Dead ! " 

Then did Siddartha raise his eyes, and see 
Fast pacing towards the river brink a band 
Of wailing people, foremost one who swung 
An earthen bowl, with lighted coals, behind 
The kinsmen shorn, with mourning marks, 

ungirt. 
Crying aloud, " O Rama, Rama, hear ! 
Call upon Rama, brothers ; " next the bier. 



JBooft tbe Zbivt>. Si 

Knit of four poles with bamboos interlaced, 
Whereon lay, stark and stiff, feet foremost, 

lean, 
Chapfallen, sightless, hollow-flanked, a-grin, 
Sprinkled with red and yellow dust — the 

Dead, 
Whom at the four-went ways they turned head 

first. 
And crying " Rama, Rama ! " carried on 
To where a pile was reared beside the stream ; 
Thereon they laid him, building fuel up — 
Good sleep hath one that slumbers on that 

bed ! 
He shall not wake for cold albeit he lies 
Naked to all the airs — for soon they set 
The red flame to the corners four, which crept, 
And licked, and flickered, finding out his flesh 
And feeding on it with swift hissing tongues, 
And crackle of parched skin, and snap of joint ; 
Till the fat smoke thinned and the ashes sank 
Scarlet and grey, with here and there a bone 
White midst the grey — the total of the man. 

Then spake the Prince : " Is this the end 
which comes 
To all who live ? " 

" This is the end that comes 
6 



82 ^be Xiflbt of "Bei^. 

To all," quoth Channa ; " he upon the pyre— • 
Whose remnants are so petty that the crows 
Caw hungrily, then quit the fruitless feast — • 
Ate, drank, laughed, loved, and lived, and 

liked life well. 
Then came — who knows ? — some gust of 

jungle wind, 
A stumble on tiie path, a taint in the tank, 
A snake's nip, half a span of angry steel, 
A chill, a fishbone, or a falling tile. 
And life was over and the man is dead ; 
No appetites, no pleasures, and no pains 
Hath such ; the kiss upon his lips is nought, 
The fire-scorch nought; he smelleth not his 

flesh 
A-roast, nor yet the sandal and the spice 
They burn; the taste is emptied from his 

mouth. 
The hearing of his ears is clogged, the sight 
Is blinded in his eyes ; those whom he loved 
Wail desolate, for even that must go. 
The body, which was lamp unto the life, 
Or worms will have a horrid feast of it. 
Here is the common destiny of flesh : 
The high and low, the good and bad, must 

die. 
And then, *tis taught, begin anew and live 



JSoofi tbe Zbix^* 83 

Somewhere, somehow, — who knows ? — and so 

again 
The pangs, the parting, and the lighted pile : — ■ 
Such is man's round." 

"Butlo! Siddarth a turned 
Eyes gleaming with divine tears to the sky, 
Eyes lit with heavenly pity to the earth ; 
From sky to earth he looked, from earth to 

sky. 
As if his spirit sought in lonely flight 
Some far-off vision, linking this and that, 
Lost — past — but searchable, but seen, but 

known. 
Then cried he, while his lifted countenance 
Glowed with the burning passion of a love 
Unspeakable, the ardor of a hope 
Boundless, insatiate : " Oh ! suffering world. 
Oh ! known and unknown of my common flesh, 
Caught in this common net of death and woe, 
And life which binds to both ! I see, I feel 
The vastness of the agony of earth. 
The vainness of its joys, the mockery 
Of all its best, the anguish of its worst ; 
Since pleasures end in pain, and youth in age, 
And love in loss, and life in hateful death. 
And death in unknown lives, which will but 

yoke 



84 ^t>e Xigbt ot Bsla» 

Men to their wheel again to whirl the round 
Of false delights and woes that are not false 
Me too this lure hath cheated, so it seemed 
Lovely to live, and life a sunlit stream 
For ever flowing in a changeless peace ; 
Whereas the foolish ripple of the flood 
Dances so lightly down by bloom and lawn 
Only to pour its crystal quicklier 
Into the foul salt sea. The veil is rent 
Which blinded me ! I am as all these men 
Who cry upon their gods and are not heard 
Or are not heeded — yet there must be aid ! 
For them and me and all there must be help I 
Perchance the gods have need of help them- 
selves 
Being so feeble that when sad lips cry 
They cannot save ! I would not let one cry 
Whom I could save ! How can it be that 

Brahm 
Would make a world and keep it miserable, 
Since, if all-powerful, he leaves it so, 
He is not good, and if not powerful, 
He is not God ? — Channa ! lead home again ! 
It is enough ! mine eyes have seen enough ! " 

Which when the King heard, at the gates 
he set 



asook tbe ^bicD. 85 

A triple guard, and bade no man should pass 
By day or night, issuing or entering in. 
Until the days were numbered of tbat dream. 



§00fe the ^0urtlj. 



But when the days were numbered, then 

befell 
The parting of our Lord — which was to be — 
Whereby came wailing in the Golden Home, 
Woe to the King and sorrow o'er the land, 
But for all flesh deliverance, and that Law 
Which — whoso hears — the same shall make 

him free. 
Softly the Indian night sinks on the plains 
At full moon in the month of Chaitra Shud, 
When mangoes redden and the asoka buds 
Sweeten the breeze, and Rama's birthday 

comes. 
And all the fields are glad and all the towns. 
Softly that night fell over Vishramvan, 
Fragrant with blooms and jewelled thick with 

stars. 
And cool with mountain airs sighing adown 
From snow-flats on Himila high-outspread ; 
For the moon swung above the eastern peaks, 
Climbing the spangled vaHilt, and lighting clear 



3Boo}{ tbe ffourtb. 87 

Rohini's ripples and the hills and plains, 
And all the sleeping land, and near at hand 
Silvering those roof-tops of the pleasure- 
house, 
Where nothing stirred nor sign of watching 

was, 
Save at the outer gates, whose warders cried 
Mudra, the watchword, and the countersign 
Angana, and the watch-drums beat a round ; 
Whereat the earth lay still, except for call 
Of prowling jackals, and the ceaseless trill 
Of crickets on the garden grounds. 

Within — 
Where the moon glittered through the lace- 
worked stone 
Lighting the walls of pearl-shell and the floors 
Paved with veined marble — softly fell her 

beams 
On such rare company of Indian girls. 
It seemed some chamber sweet in Paradise 
Where Devis rested. All the chosen ones 
Of Prince Siddartha's pleasure-home were 

there, 
The brightest and most faithful of the Court, 
Each form so lovely in the peace of sleep. 
That you had said " This is the pearl of alll " 



8S Zbc Xiflbt of Bsta. 

Save that beside her or beyond her lay- 
Fairer and fairer, till the pleasured gaze 
Roamed o'er that feast of beauty as it roams 
From gem to gem in some great goldsmith 

work, 
Caught by each color till the next is seen. 
With careless grace they lay, their soft brown 

limbs 
Part hidden, part revealed ; their glossy hair 
Bound back with gold or flowers, or flowing 

loose 
In black waves down the shapely nape and 

neck. 
Lulled into pleasant dreams by happy toils. 
They slept, no wearier than jewelled birds 
Which sing and love all day, then under wing 
Fold head till morn bids sing and love again. 
Lamps of chased silver swinging from the roof 
In silver chains, and fed with perfumed oils. 
Made with the moonbeams' tender lights and 

shades, 
Whereby were seen the perfect lines of grace, 
The bosom's placid heave, the soft stained 

palms 
Drooping or clasped, the faces fair and dark, 
The great arched brows, the parted lips, the 

teeth 



JSooft tbe 3fourtb» 89 

Like pearls a merchant picks to make a string, 
The satin-lidded eyes, with lashes dropped 
Sweeping the delicate cheeks, the rounded 

wrists. 
The smooth small feet with bells and bangles 

decked, 
Tinkling low music where some sleeper moved, 
Breaking her smiling dream of some new dance 
Praised by the Prince, some magic ring to 

find, 
Some fairy love-gift. Here one lay full-length, 
Her vina by her cheek, and in its strings 
The little fingers still all interlaced 
As when the last notes of her light song played 
Those radiant eyes to sleep and sealed her 

own. 
Another slumbered folding in her arms 
A desert-antelope, its slender head 
Buried with back-sloped horns between her 

breasts 
Soft nestling; it was eating— when both 

drowsed — 
Red roses, and her loosening hand still held 
A rose half-mumbled, while a rose-leaf curled 
Between the deer's li^ -, Here two friends 

had dozed 
Together, weaving mogra-buds, which bound 



go ^hc tigbt of Bsia. 

Their sister-sweetness in a starry chain, 
Linking them limb to limb and heart to heart 
One pillowed on the blossoms, one on her. 
Another, ere she slept, was stringing stones 
To make a necklet — agate, onyx, sard, 
Coral, and moonstone — round her wrist it 

gleamed 
A coil of splendid color, while she held, 
Unthreaded yet, the bead to close it up 
Green turkis, carved with golden gods and 

scripts. 
Lulled by the cadence of the garden stream, 
Thus lay they on the clustered carpets, each 
A girlish rose with shut leaves, waiting dawn 
To open and make daylight beautiful. 
This was the antechamber of the Prince ; 
But at the purdah's fringe the sweetest slept — 
Gunga and Gotami — chief ministers 
In that still house of love. 

The purdah hung, 
Crimson and blue, with broidered threads of 

gold. 
Across a portal carved in sandal-wood, 
Whence by three steps the way was to tiie 

bower 
Of inmost splendor, and the marriage-couch 
Set on a dais soft with silver cloths, 



JBooft tbe ifourtb. 91 

Where the foot fell as though it trod on piles 
Of neem-blooms. All the walls were plates of 

pearl, 
Cut shapely from the shells of Lanka's wave ; 
And o'er the alabaster roof there ran 
Rich inlayings of lotus and of bird, 
Wrought in skilled work of lazulite and jade, 
Jacynth and jasper ; woven round the dome, 
And down the sides, and all about the frames 
Wherein were set the fretted lattices, 
Through which there breathed, with moonlight 

and cool airs. 
Scents from the shell-flowers and the jasmii>e 

sprays ; 
Not bringing thither grace or tenderness 
Sweeter than shed from those fair presences 
Within the place — the beauteous Sakya Prince, 
And hers, the stately, bright Yasodhara. 

Half risen from her soft nest at his side, 
The chuddah fallen to her waist, her brow 
Laid in both palms, the lovely Princess leaned 
With heaving bosom and fast falling tears. 
Thrice with her lips she touched Sidddrtha's 

hand. 
And at the third kiss moaned, " Awake, my 

Lord! 



92 ^be Xigbt ot Bsla. 

Give me the comfort of thy speech ! '* Then 

he— 
"What is it with thee, O my life ? " but still 
She moaned anew before the words would 

come; 
Then spake, " Alas, my Prince ! I sank to sleep 
Most happy, for the babe I bear of thee 
Quickened this eve, and at my heart there beat 
That double pulse of life and joy and love 
Whose happy music lulled me, but — aho ! — 
In slumber I beheld three sights of dread, 
With thought whereof my heart is throbbing 

yet. 
I saw a white bull with wide branching horns, 
A lord of pastures, pacing through the streets, 
Bearing upon his front a gem which shone ^ 
As if some star had dropped to glitter there, 
Or like the kantha-stone the great SnaTce keeps 
To make bright daylight underneath the earth. 
Slow through the streets towards the gates he 

paced. 
And none could stay him, though there came a 

voice 
From Indra's temple, ' If ye stay him not. 
The glory of the city goeth forth.' 
Yet none could stay him. Then I wept aloud, 
And locked my arms about his neck, and strove^ 



:Sooft tbe 3fourtb» 93 

And bade them bar the gates ; but that ox-king 
Bellowed, and, lightly tossing free his crest, 
Broke from my clasp, and bursting through the 

bars. 
Trampled the warders down and passed away. 
The next strange dream was this : Four Pres- 
ences 
Splendid, with shining eyes, so beautiful 
They seemed the Regents of the Earth who 

dwell 
On Mount Sumeru, lighting from the sky 
With retinue of countless heavenly ones, 
Swift swept unto our city, where I saw 
The golden flag of Indra on the gate 
Flutter and fall ; and lo ! there rose instead 
A glorious banner, all the folds whereof 
Rippled with flashing fire of rubies sewn 
Thick on the silver threads, the rays wherefrom 
Set forth new words and weighty sentences 
Whose message made all living creatures glad ; 
And from the east the wind of sunrise blew 
With tender waft, opening those jewelled scrolls 
So that all flesh might read ; and wondrous 

blooms — 
Plucked in what clime I know not — fell in 

showers. 
Colored as none are colored in our groves." 



94 ^be Xlsbt ot Bsla» 

Then spake the Prince : " All this, my Lotus- 
flower 1 
Was good to see." 

" Ay, Lord," the Princess said, 
" Save that it ended with a voice of fear 
Crying, * The time is nigh ! the time is nigh ! * 
Thereat the third dream came ; for when I 

sought 
Thy side, sweet Lord ! ah, on our bed there lay 
An unpressed pillow and an empty robe — 
Nothing of thee but those ! — nothing of thee, 
Who art my life and light, my king, my world ! 
And sleeping still I rose, and sleeping saw 
Thy belt of pearls, tied here below my breasts, 
Change to a stinging snake ; my ankle-rings 
Fall off, my golden bangles part and fall ; 
The jasmines in my hair wither to dust ; 
While this our bridal-couch sank to the ground, 
And something rent the crimson purdah down ; 
Then far away I heard the white bull low, 
And far away the embroidered banner flap. 
And once again that cry, ' The time is come ! * 
But with that cry — which shakes my spirit 

still— 
I woke ! O Prince ! what may such visions 

mean 
Hixcept I die, or — worse than any death — 



moo\\ tbc 2fourtb, 95 

Thou shouldst forsake me or be taken ? " 

Sweet 
As the last smile of sunset was the look 
Siddartha bent upon his weeping wife. 
" Comfort thee, dear ! " he said, " if comfort 

lives 
In changeless love; for though thy dream 

may be 
Shadows of things to come, and though the 

gods 
Are shaken in their seats, and though the world 
Stands nigh, perchance, to know some way of 

help. 
Yet, whatsoever fall to thee and me, 
Be sure I loved and love Yasodhara. 
Thou knowest how I muse these many moons, 
Seeking to save the sad earth I have seen ; 
And when the time comes, that which will be 

will. 
But if my soul yearns sore for souls unknown, 
And if I grieve for griefs which are not mine, 
Judge how my high-winged thoughts must 

hover here 
O'er all these lives that share and sweeten 

mine — 
So dear ! and thine the dearest, gentlest, best, 
And nearest. Ah, thou mother of my babe ! 



96 Zbc %iQbt of asla* 

Whose body mixed with mine for this fair hope, 
When most my spirit wanders, ranging round 
The lands and seas — as full of ruth for men 
As the far-flying dove is full of ruth 
For her twin nestlings — ever it has come 
Home with glad wing and passionate plumes 

to thee, 
Who art the sweetness of my kind best seen, 
The utmost of their good, the tenderest 
Of all their tenderness, mine most of all. 
Therefore, whatever after this betide, 
Bethink thee of that lordly bull which lowed, 
That jewelled banner in thy dream which 

waved 
Its folds departing, and of this be sure, 
Always I loved and always love thee well, 
And what I sought for all sought most for thee. 
But thou, take comfort ; and, if sorrow falls, 
Take comfort still in deeming there may be 
A way of peace on earth by woes of ours ; 
And have with this embrace what faithful love 
Can think of thanks or frame for benison — 
Too little, seeing love's strong self is weak — 
Yet kiss me on the mouth, and drink these 

words 
From heart to heart therewith, that thou mayst 

know — 



JBoon tbe JFourtb. 97 

What others will not — that I loved thee most 
Because I loved so M^ell all living souls. 
Now, Princess! rest, for I will rise and watch.*' 

Then in her tears she slept, but sleeping 

sighed — 
As if that vision passed again — " The time ! 
The time is come ! " Whereat Siddartha 

turned, 
And, lo ! the moon shone by the Crab 1 the 

stars 
In that same silver order long foretold 
Stood ranged to say, " This is the night I— 

choose thou 
The way of greatness or the way of good : 
To reign a King of kings, or wander lone, 
Crownless and homeless, that the world be 

helped." 
Moreover, with the whispers of the gloom 
Came to his ears again that warning song. 
As when the Devas spoke upon the wind : 
And surely Gods were round about the place 
Watching our Lord, who watched the shining 

stars. 

•*I will depart," he spake; "the hour b 
cornel 
7 



98 tTbc %iQbt of B6ia. 

Thy tender lips, dear sleeper, summon me 
To that which saves the earth but sunders us; 
And in the silence of yon sky I read 
My fated message flashing. . Unto this 
Came I, and unto this all nights and days 
Have led me ; for I will not have that crown 
Which may be mine : I lay aside those realms 
Which wait the gleaming of my naked sword : 
My chariot shall not roll with bloody wheels 
From victory to victory, till earth 
Wears the red record of my name. I choose 
To tread its paths with patient, stainless feet, 
Making its dust my bed, its loneliest wastes 
My dwelling, and its meanest things my mates : 
Clad in no prouder garb than outcasts wear, 
Fed with no meats save what the charitable 
Give of their will, sheltered by no more pomp 
Than the dim cave lends or the jungle-bush. 
This will I do because the woful cry 
Of life and all flesh living cometh up 
Into my ears, and all my soul is full 
Of pity for the sickness of this world ; 
Which I will heal, if healing may be found 
By uttermost renouncing and strong strife. 
For which of all the great and lesser Gods 
Have power or pity ? Who hath seen them— • 
who? 



:©oo!; tbe JFourtb, 99 

What have they wrought to help their wor- 
shippers ? 
How hath it steaded man to pray, and pay 
Tithes of the corn and oil, to chant the charms, 
To slay the shrieking sacrifice, to rear 
The stately fane, to feed the priests, and call 
On Vishnu, Shiva, Surya, who save 
None — not the worthiest — from the griefs that 

teach 
Those litanies of flattery and fear 
Ascending day by day, like wasted smoke ? 
Hath any of my brothers 'scaped thereby 
The aches of life, the stings of love and loss, 
The fiery fever and the ague-shake. 
The slow, dull sinking into withered age, 
The horrible dark death — and what beyond 
Waits — till the whirling wheel comes up again, 
And new lives bring new sorrows to be borne. 
New generations for the new desires 
Which have their end in the old mockeries ? 
Hath any of my tender sisters found 
Fruit of the fast or harvest of the hymn. 
Or bought one pang the less at bearing-time 
For white curds offered and trim tulsi-leaves ? 
Nay ; it may be some of the Gods are good 
And evil-some, but all in action weak j 
Both pitiful and pitiless, and both — 



100 ^bc Xifibt ot B6ia. 

As men are — bound upon this wheel of change 
Knowing the former and the after lives. 
For so our scriptures truly seem to teach, 
That — once, and wheresoe'er, and whence 

begun — 
Life runs its rounds of living, climbing up 
From mote, and gnat, and worm, reptile, and 

fish. 
Bird and shagged beast, man, demon, deva, 

God, 
To clod and mote again ; so are we kin 
To all that is ; and thus, if one might save 
Man from his curse, the whole wide world 

should share 
The lightened horror of this ignorance 
Whose shadow is chill fear, and cruelty 
Its bitter pastime. Yea, if one might save ! 
And means must be ! There must be refuge ! 

Men 
Perished in winter-winds till one smote fire 
From flint-stones coldly hiding what they held, 
The red spark treasured from the kindling sun. 
They gorged on flesh like wolves, till one sowed 

corn. 
Which grew a weed, yet makes the life of man ; 
They mowed and babbled till some tongue 

struck speech, 



3Booft tbe Jfourtb. loi 

And patient fingers framed the lettered sound. 
What good gift have my brothers, but it came 
From search and strife and loving sacrifice ? 
If one, then, being great and Jortunate, 
Rich, dowered with health and ease, from 

birth designed 
To rule — if he would rule — a King of kings ; 
If one, not tired with life's long day but glad 
I' the freshness of its morning, one not cloyed 
A^ith love's delicious feasts, but hungry still ; 
If one not worn and wrinkled, sadly sage, 
But joyous in the glory and the grace 
That mix with evils here, and free to choose 
Earth's loveliest at his will : one even as I, 
Who ache not, lack not, grieve not, save with 

griefs 
Which are not mine, except as I am man ; — 
If such a one, having so much to give, 
Gave all, laying it down for love of men, 
And thenceforth spent himself to search for 

truth. 
Wringing the secret of deliverance forth. 
Whether it lurk in hells or hide in heavens, 
Or hover, unrevealed, nigh unto all : 
Surely at last, far off, sometime, somewhere, 
The veil would lift for his deep-searching eye^ 
The road would open for his painful feet. 



102 ^hc Xi0bt of Bsla. 

That should be won for which he lost the 

world, 
And Death might find him conqueror of death. 
This will I do. v ho have a realm to lose, 
Because I love my realm, because my heart 
Beats with each throb of all the hearts that 

ache, 
Known and unknown, these that are mine and 

those 
Which shall be mine, a thousand million more 
Saved by this sacrifice I offer now. 
Oh, summoning stars ! I come ! Oh, mournful 

earth ! 
For thee and thine I lay aside my youth, 
My throne, my joys, my golden days, my nights, 
My happy palace — and thine ' arms, sweet 

Queen ! 
Harder to put aside than all the rest ! 
Yet thee, too, I shall save, saving this earth ; 
And that which stirs within thy tender womb, 
My child, the hidd.n blossom of our loves. 
Whom if I wait to bless my mind will fail. 
Wife ! child ! father ! and people ! ye must 

share 
A little while the anguish of this hour 
That light may break and all flesh learn the 

Law. 



:iBooft tbe fourtb. 103 

Now am I fixed, and now I will depart, 

Never to come again till what I seek 

Be found — if fervent search and strife avail." 

So with his brow he touched her feet, and 

bent 
The farewell of fond eyes, unutterable, 
Upon her sleeping face, still wet with tears; 
And thrice around the bed in reverence. 
As though it were an altar, softly stepped 
With clasped hands laid upon his beating 

heart, 
" For never," spake he, " lie I there again ! " 
And thrice he made to go,but thrice came back, 
So strong her beauty was, so large his love : 
Then, o'er his head drawing his cloth, he 

turned 
Ad raised the purdah's edge : 

There drooped, close-hushed, 
In such sealed sleep as water-lilies know, 
The lovely garden of his Indian girls ; 
That twin dark-petalled lotus-buds of all — 
Gunga and Gotami — on either side. 
And those, their silk-leaved sisterhood, beyond. 
" Pleasant ye are to me, sweet friends 1 " he 

said, 
•* And deal to leave ; yet if I leave ye not 



104 ^^^ ^^0t>t ot Bafa. 

What else will come to all of us save eld 
Without assuage and death without avail ? 
Lo ! as ye lie asleep so must ye lie 
A-dead ; and when the rose dies where are gona 
Its scent and splendor ? when the lamp is 

drained 
Whither is fled the flame ? Press heavy, Night ! 
Upon their down-dropped lids and seal their 

lips, 
That no tear stay me and no faithful voice. 
For all the brighter that these made my life, 
The bitterer it is that they and I, 
And all, should live as trees do — so much 

spring, 
Such and such rains and frosts, such winter- 
times, 
And then dead leaves, with maybe spring again, 
Or axe-stroke at the root. This will not I, 
Whose life here was a God's ! — this would not I, 
Though all my days were godlike, while men 

moan 
Under their darkness. Therefore farewell, 

friends ! 
While life is good to give, I give, and go 
To seek deliverance and that unknown Light ! " 

Then, lightly treading where those sleepers 
lay. 



asooft tbe 3Fourtb. 105 

Into the night Sidd^rtha passed : its eyes, 
The watchful stars, looked love on him: its 

breath. 
The wandering wind, kissed his robe's fluttered 

fringe ; 
The garden-blossoms, folded for the dawn, 
Opened their velvet hearts to waft him scents 
From pink and purple censers : o'er the 

land. 
From Himalay unto the Indian Sea, 
A tremor spread, as if earth's soul beneath 
Stirred with an unknown hope ; and holy 

books — 
Which tell the story of our Lord — say, too. 
That rich celestial musics thrilled the air 
From hosts on hosts of shining ones, who 

thronged 
Eastward and westward, making bright the 

night — 
Northward and southward, making glad the 

ground. 
Also those four dread Regents of the Earth, 
Descending at the doorway, two by two, — 
With their bright legions of Invisibles 
In arms of sapphire, silver, gold, and pearl — 
Watched with joined hands the Indian Prince^ 

who stood, 



io6 ^bc XiQbt ot Bsia* 

His tearful eyes raised to the stars, and lips 
Close-set with purpose of prodigious love. 

Then strode he forth into the gloom and 
cried, 
** Channa, awake ! and bring out Kantaka ! " 

"What would my Lord?" the charioteer 
replied — 
Slow-rising from his place beside the gate — 
** To ride at night when all the ways are dark ? " 

" Speak low," Siddartha said, " and bring 

my horse. 
For now the hour is come when I should quit 
This golden prison where my heart lives caged 
To find the truth ; which henceforth I will 

seek, 
For all men's sake, until the truth be found." 

" Alas ! dear Prince," answered the chario- 
teer, 

" Spake then for nought those wise and holy 
men 

Who cast the stars and bade us wait the time 

When King Suddhodana's great son should 
rule 

Realms upon realms, and be a Lord of lords ? 



JBooft tbe ifourtb. 107 

Wilt thou ride hence and let the rich world 

slip 
Out of thy grasp, to hold a beggar's bowl ? 
Wilt thou go forth into the friendless waste 
That hast this Paradise of pleasures here ? *' 

The Prince made answer, " Unto this I came, 

And not for thrones : the kingdom that I crave 

Is more than many realms — and all things pass 

To change and death. Bring me forth 

Kantaka ! " 

" Most honored," spake again the charioteer, 
** Bethink thee of my Lord thy father's grief ! 
Bethink thee of their woe whose bliss thou 

art — 
How shalt thou help them, first undoing them ? " 

Sidd^rtha answered, " Friend, that love is 
false 
Which clings to love for selfish sweets of love ; 
But I, who love these more than joys of mine — 
Yea, more than joy of theirs — depart to save 
Them and all flesh, if utmost love avail. 
Go, bring me Kantaka 1 " 

Then Channa said, 



io8 ^be %iQ\)t ot 2l6la. 

" Master, I go ! " and forthwith, mournfully, 
Unto the stall he passed, and from the rack 
Took down the silver bit and bridle-chains, 
Breast-cord and curb, and knitted fast the 

straps, 
And linked the hooks, and led out Kantaka ; 
Whom tethering to the ring, he combed and 

dressed, 
Stroking the snowy coat to silken gloss ; 
Next on the steed he laid the numdah square. 
Fitted the saddle-cloth across, and set 
The saddle fair, drew tight the jewelled girths, 
Buckled the breech-bands and the martingale, 
And made fall both the stirrups of worked gold. 
Then over all he cast a golden net, 
With tassels of seed-pearl and silken strings, 
And led the great horse to the palace door. 
Where stood the Prince ; but when he saw his 

Lord, 
Right glad he waxed and joyously he neighed, 
Spreading his scarlet nostrils ; and the books 
Write, " Surely all had heard Kantaka's neigh, 
And that strong trampling of his iron heels, 
Save that the Devas laid their unseen wings 
Over their ears and kept the sleepers deaf." 

Fondly Siddartha drew the proud hea«| 
down, 



:iBoofi tbe jfourtb* 109 

Patted the shining neck, and said, " Be still, 
White Kantaka ! be still, and bear me now 
The farthest journey ever rider rode ; 
For this night take I horse to find the truth, 
And where my quest will end yet know I not, 
Save that it shall not end until I find. 
Therefore to-night, good steed, be fierce and 

bold! 
Let nothing stay thee, though a thousand 

blades 
Deny the road ! let neither wall nor moat 
Forbid our flight ! Look ! if I touch thy flank 
And cry, ' On, Kantaka ! ' let whirlwinds lag 
Behind thy course ! Be fire and air, my horse I 
To stead thy Lord, so shalt thou share with 

him 
The greatness of this deed which helps the 

world ; 
For therefore ride I, not for men alone. 
But for all things which, speechless, share our 

pain 
And have no hope, nor wit to ask for hope. 
Now, therefore, bear thy master valorously ! ** 

Then to the saddle lightly leaping, he 
Touched the arched crest, and Kantaka sprang 
forth 



no ^be Xiflbt ot B6ia» 

With armed hoofs sparkling on the stones and 

ring 
Of champing bit; but none did hear that 

sound, 
For that the Suddha Devas, gathering near, 
Plucked the red mohra-flowers and strewed 

them thick 
Under his tread, while hands invisible 
Muffled the ringing bit and bridle chains. 
Moreover, it is written when they came 
Upon the pavement near the inner gates, 
The Yakshas of the air laid magic cloths 
Under the stallion's feet, so that he went 
Softly and still. 

But when they reached the gate 
Of tripled brass — which hardly fivescore men 
Served to unbar and open — lo ! the doors 
Rolled back all silently, though one might 

hear 
In daytime two koss off the thunderous roar 
Of those grim hinges and unwieldy plates. 

Also the middle and the outer gates 
Unfolded each their monstrous portals thus 
In silence as Siddartha and his steed 
Drew near; while underneath their shadow 
lay, 



:©ooft tbe Jfourtb. m 

Silent as dead men, all those chosen guards ^ 

The lance and sword let fall, the shields 

unbraced, 
Captains and soldiers — for there came a wind, 
Drowsier than blows o'er Malwa's fields of 

sleep, 
Before the Prince's path, which, being breathed, 
Lulled every sense aswoon : and so he passed 
Free from the palace. 

When the morning star 
Stood half a spear's length from the eastern 

rim, 
And o'er the earth the breath of morning 

sighed 
Rippling Anoma's wave, the border-stream. 
Then drew he rein, and leaped to earth and 

kissed 
White Kant-ka betwixt the ears, and spake 
Full sweet to Channa : " This which thou hast 

done 
Shall bring thee good and bring all creatures 

good. 
Be sure I love thee always for thy love. 
Lead back my horse and take my crest-pearl 

here. 
My princely robes, which henceforth stead me 
not. 



112 XTbc Xl0bt of B6fa. 

My jewelled sword-belt and my sword, and 

these 
The long locks by its bright edge severed thus 
From off my brows. Give the King all, and 

say 
Siddartha prays forget him till he come 
Ten times a Prince, with royal wisdom won 
From lonely search ings and the strife for light; 
Where, if I conquer, lo ! all earth is mine — 
Mine by chief service ! — tell him — mine by 

love ! 
Since there is hope for man only in man, 
And none hath sought for this as I will seek. 
Who cast away my world to save my world/* 



JiSook tbe aflttb. 113 



g00fe m Jiftk 



Round Rajagriha five fair hills arose, 
Guarding King Bimbasara's sylvan town : 
Baibhara, green with lemon-grass and palms ; 
Bipulla, at whose foot thin Sarsuti 
Steals with warm ripple ; shadowy Tapovan, 
Whose steaming pools mirror black rocks, 

which ooze 
Sovereign earth-butter from their rugged roofs j 
South-east the vulture-peak Sailagiri ; 
And eastward Ratnagiri, hill of gems. 
A winding track, paven with footworn slabs, 
Leads thee by safflower fields and bamboo tufts 
Under dark mangoes and the jujube-trees, 
Past milk-white veins of rock andj-^sper crags, 
Low cliff and flats of jungle-flowers, to where 
The shoulder of that mountain, sloping west, 
O'erhangs a cave with wild figs canopied. 
Lo ! thou who comest thither, bare thy feet 
And bow thy head ! for all this spacious earth 
Hath not a spot more dear and hallowed 

Here 

S 



114 ^be Xlgbt of Bsfa. 

Lord Buddha sate the scorching summers 

through, 
The driving rains, the chilly dawns and eves ; 
Wearing for all men's sakes the yellow robe, 
Eating in beggar's guise the scanty meal 
Chance-gathered frorn the charitable ; at night 
Couched on the grass, homeless, alone ; while 

yelped 
The sleepless jackals round his cave, or coughs 
Of famished tiger from the thicket broke. 
By day and night here dwelt the World-honored, 
Subduing-that fair body born for bliss 
With fast and frequent watch and search 

intense 
Of silent meditation, so prolonged 
That ofttimes while he mused — as motionless 
As the fixed ock his seat — the squirrel leaped 
Upon his knee, the timid quail led forth 
Her brood between his feet, and blue doves 

pecked 
The rice-grains from the bowl beside his hand. 

Thus would he muse from noontide — when 
the land 
Shimmered with heat, and walls and temples 

danced 
In the reeking air — till sunset, noting not 



:ffiooI^ tbe mttb. 115 

The blazing globe roll down, nor evening glide, 
Purple and swift, across the softened fields ; 
Nor the still coming of the stars, nor throb 
Of drum-skins in the busy town, nor screech 
Of owl and night- jar ; wholly wrapt from self 
In keen unravelling of the threads of thought 
And steadfast pacing of life's labyrinths. 
Thus would he sit till midnight hushed the 

world, 
Save where the beasts of darkness in the brake 
Crept and cried out, as fear and hatred cry, 
As lust and avarice and anger creep 
In the black jungles of man's ignorance. 
Then slept he for what space the fleet moon asks 
To swim a tenth part of her cloudy sea ; 
But rose ere the False-dawn, and stood again 
Wistful on some dark platform of his hill, 
Watching the sleeping earth with ardent eyes 
And thoughts embracing all its living things, 
While o'er the waving fields that murmur moved 
Which is the kiss of Morn waking the lands, 
And in the east that miracle of Day 
Gathered and grew. At first a dusk so dim 
Night seems still unaware of whispered dawn, 
But soon — before the jungle-cock crows twice — 
A white verge clear, a widening, brightening 

white, 



ii6 ^be XiQbt ot Bsia. 

High as the herald-star, which fades in floods 
Of silver, warming into pale gold, caught 
By topmost clouds, and flaming on their rims 
To fervent golden glow, flushed from the brink 
With saffron, scarlet crimson, amethyst ; 
Whereat the sky burns splendid to the blue, 
And, robed in raiment of glad light, the King 
Of Life and Glory cometh ! 

Then our Lord, 
After the manner of a Rishi, hailed 
The rising orb, and went — ablutions made — 
Down by the winding path unto the town ; 
And in the fashion of a Rishi passed 
From street to street, with begging-bowl in 

hand. 
Gathering the little pittance of his needs. 
Soon was it filled, for all the townsmen cried, 
" Take of our store, great sir ! " and " Take of 

ours ! " 
Marking his godlike face and eyes enwrapt ; 
And mothers, when they saw our Lord go by, 
Would bid their children fall to kiss his feet, 
And lift his robe's hem to their brows, or run 
To fill his jar, and fetch him milk and cakes. 
And ofttimes as he paced, gentle and slow, 
Radiant with heavenly pity, lost in care 
For those he knew not, save as fellow-lives, 



3i5oo?i tbe Jffttb. 117 

The dark surprised eyes of some Indian maid 
Would dwell in sudden love and worship deep 
On that majestic form, as if she saw 
Her dreams of tenderest thought made true, 

and grace 
Fairer than mortal fire her breast. But he 
Passed onward with the bowl and yellow robe, 
By mild speech paying all those gifts of heart*. 
Wending his way back to the solitudes 
To sit upon his hill with holy men, 
And hear and ask of wisdom and its roads. 

Midway on Ratnagiri's groves of calm, 
Beyond the city, but below the caves, 
Lodged such as hold the body foe to soul. 
And flesh a beast which men must chain and 

tame 
With bitter pains, till sense of pain is killed, 
And tortured nerves vex torturer no more — 
Yogis and Brahmacharis, Bhikshus, all 
A gaunt and mournful band, dwelling apart. 
Some day and night had stood with lifted 

arms, 
Till — drained of blood and withered by dis- 
ease — 
Their slowly-wasting joints and stiffened limbs 
Jutted from sapless shoulders like dead forks 



ii8 c:be %iQ\yt ot Bsia, 

From forest trunks. Others had clenched 

their hands 
So long ana with so fierce a fortitude, 
The claw-like nails grew through the festerea 

palm. 
Some walked on sandals spiked; some with 

sharp flints 
Gashed breast and brow and thigh, scarred 

these with fire. 
Threaded their flesh with jungle thorns and 

spits, 
Besmeared with mud and ashes, crouching 

foul 
In rags of dead men wrapped about their 

loins. 
Certain there were inhabited the spots 
Where death-pyres smouldered, cowering de- 
filed 
With corpses for their company, and kites 
Screaming around them o'er the funeral-spoils : 
Certain who cried five hundred times a day 
The names of Shiva, wound with darting snakes 
About their sun-tanned necks and hollow flanks 
One palsied foot drawn up against the ham. 
So gathered they, a grievous company ; 
Crowns blistered by the blazing heat, eyes 

bleared, 



JBooft tbc 3f(ttb» 119 

Sinews and muscles shrivelled, visages 
Haggard and wan as slain men's, five days 

dead ; 
Here crouched one in the dust who noon by 

noon 
Meted a thousand grains of millet out. 
Ate it with famished patience, seed by seed, 
And so starved on ; there one who bruised his 

pulse 
With bitter leaves lest palate should be pleased; 
And next, a miserable saint self-maimed. 
Eyeless and tongueless, sexless, crippled, deaf; 
The body by the mind being thus stripped 
For glory of much suffering, and the bliss 
Which they shall win — say holy books — whose 

woe 
Shames gods that send us woe, and makes 

men gods 
Stronger to suffer than Hell is to harm. 

Whom sadly eying spake our Lord to one, 
Chief of the woe-begones : " Much- suffering sir I 
These many moons I dwell upon the hill — 
Who am a seeker of the Truth — and see 
My brothers here, and thee, so piteously 
Self-anguished ; wherefore add ye ills to life 
Which is so evil ? " 



120 Ebc XiQbt ot Bsia. 

Answer made the sage; 
** Tis written if a man shall mortify 
His flesh, till pain be grown the life he lives 
And death voluptuous rest, such woes shall 

purge 
Sin's dross away, and the soul, purified, 
Soar from the furnace of its sorrow, winged 
For glorious spheres and splendor past all 

thought." 

"Yon cloud which floats in heaven," the 

Prince replied, 
" Wreathed like gold cloth around your Indra's 

throne, 
Rose thither from the tempest-driven sea ; 
But it must fall again in tearful drops, 
Trickling through rough and painful water-ways 
By cleft and nullah and the muddy flood, 
To Gunga and the sea, wherefrom it sprang. 
Know'st thou, my brother, if it be not thus. 
After their many pains, with saints in bliss ? 
Since that which rises falls, and that which 

buys 
Is spent ; and if ye buy heav'n with your blood 
In hell's hard market, when the bargain's 

through 
The toil begins again ! " 



JSooft tbe afittb. X2i 

" It may begin"' 
The hermit moaned. " Alas ! we know not 

this, 
Nor surely anything ; yet after night 
Day comes, and after turmoil peace, and we 
Hate this accursed flesh which clogs the soul 
That fain would rise ; so, for the sake of soul, 
We stake brief agonies in game with Gods 
To gain the larger joys." 

" Yet if they last 
A myriad years," he said, " they fade at length, 
Those joys ; or if not, is there then some life 
Below, above, beyond, so unlike life 
It will not change .? Speak ! do your Gods 

endure 
For ever, brothers ? " 

" Nay," the Yogis said. 
" Only great Brahm endures : the Gods but 

live." 

Then spake Lord Buddha : " Will ye, being 

wise, 
As ye seem holy and strong-hearted ones, 
Throw these sore dice, which are your groans 

and moans, 
For gains which may be dreams, and must 

have end ? 



122 ^be Xigbt ot Bsla. 

Will ye, for love of soul, so loathe your flesh, 
So scourge and maim it, that it shall not serve 
To bear the spirit on, searching for home. 
But founder on the track before nightfall, 
Like willing steed o'er-spurred ? Will ye, sad 

sirs, 
Dismantle and dismember this fair house, 
Where we have come to dwell by painful pasts ; 
Whose windows give us light — the little light — 
Whereby we gaze abroad to know if dawn 
Will break, and whither winds the better 

road ? " 

Then cried they, " We have chosen this for 
road 
And tread it, Rajaputra, till the close — ■ 
Though all its stones were fire — in trust of 

death. 
Speak, if thou know'st a way more excellent ; 
If not, peace go with thee ! " 

Onward he passed, 
Exceeding sorrowful, seeing how men 
Fear so to die they are afraid to fear. 
Lust so to live they dare not love their life, 
But plague it with fierce penances, belike 
To please the Gods who grudge pleasure to 
man; 



JBooft tbe gittb, 123 

Belike to balk hell by self-kindled hells ; 

Belike in holy madness, hoping soul 

May break the better through their wasted 

flesh. 
" Oh, flowerets of the field ! " Siddartha said, 
** Who turn your tender faces to the sun — 
Glad of the light, and grateful with sweet breath 
Of fragrance and these robes of reverence 

donned 
Silver and gold and purple — none of ye 
Miss perfect living, none of ye despoil 
Your happy beauty. Oh, ye palms ! which rise 
Eager to pierce the sky and drink the wind 
Blown from Malaya and the cool blue seas, 
What secret know ye that ye grow content, 
From time of tender shoot to time of fruit, 
Murmuring such sun-songs from your feathered 

crowns ? 
Ye, too, who dwell so merry in the trees — 
Quick-darting parrots, bee-birds, bulbuls, 

doves — 
None of ye hate your life, none of ye deem 
To strain to better by foregoing needs ! 
But man, who slays ye — being lord — is wise, 
And wisdom, nursed on blood, cometh thug 

forth 
In self-tormentings I " 



124 ^be Ufsbt of B0fa. 

While the Master spake 
Blew down the mount the dust of pattering feet, 
White goats and black sheep winding slow 

their way, 
With many a lingering nibble at the tufts, 
And wanderings from the path, where water 

gleamed 
Or wild figs hung. But always as they strayed 
The herdsman cried, or slung his sling, and 

kept 
The silly crowd still moving to the plain. 
A ewe with couplets in the flock there was, 
Some hurt had lamed one lamb, which toiled 

behind 
Bleeding, while in the front its fellow skipped. 
And the vexed dam hither and thither ran, 
Fearful to lose this little one or that ; 
Which when our Lord did mark, full tenderly 
He took the limping lamb upon his neck. 
Saying, " Poor woolly mother, be at peace ! 
Whither thou goest I will bear thy care ; 
'Twere all as good to ease one beast of grief 
As sit and watch the sorrows of the world 
In yonder caverns with the priests who pray." 

" But," spake he to the herdsmen, "where- 
fore, f rienda 1 



:fi3ook tbe yittb. 125 

Drive ye the flocks adown under high noon, 
Since 'tis at evening that men fold their 
sheep ? " 

And answer gave the peasants: "We are 

sent 
To fetch a sacrifice of goats five score, 
And five score sheep, the which our Lord the 

King 
Slayeth this night in worship of his gods." 

Then said the Master : " I will also go I " 
So paced he patiently, bearing the lamb 
Beside the herdsmen in the dust and sun. 
The wistful ewe low-bleating at his feet. 

Whom, when they came unto the river-side, 
A woman — dove-eyed, young, with tearful face 
And lifted hands — saluted, bending low : 
** Lord ! thou art he," she said, " who yesterday 
Had pity on me in the fig-grove here, 
Where I live lone and reared my child ; but he 
Straying amid the blossoms found a snake, 
Which twined about his wrist, whilst he did 

laugh 
And tease the quick forked tongue and opened 

mouth 



126 ^hc %iQht ot Bsta. 

Of that cold playmate. But, alas ! ere long 
He turned so pale and still, I could not think 
Why he should cease to play, and let my breast 
Fall from his lips. And one said, * He is 

sick 
Of poison ; ' and another, * He will die.' 
But I, who could not lose my precious boy, 
Prayed of them physic, which might bring the 

light 
Back to his eyes ; it was so very small 
That kiss-mark of the serpent, and I think 
It could not hate him, gracious as he was, 
Nor hurt him in his sport. And some one 

said, 

* There is a holy man upon the hill — 
Lo ! now he passeth in the yellow robe — 
Ask of the Rishi if there be a cure 

For that which ails thy son.' Whereon I came 
Trembling to thee, whose brow is like a god's, 
And wept and drew the face cloth from my 

babe, 
Praying thee tell what simples might be good. 
And thou, great sir ! didst spurn me not, but 

gaze 
With gentle eyes and touch with patient hand \ 
Then draw the face-cloth back, saying to me. 

• Yea 1 little sister, there is that might heal 



JBooft tbe jpfttD. 127 

Thee first, and him, if thou couldst fetch the 

thing ; 
For they who seek physicians bring to them 
What is ordained. Therefore, I pray thee, 

find 
Black mustard-seed, a tola ; only mark 
Thou take it not from any hand or house 
Where father, mother, child, or slave hath 

died: 
It shall be well if thou canst find such seed.' 
Thus didst thou speak, my Lord ! " 

The Master smiled 
Exceeding tenderly. " Yea ! I spake thus, 
Dear Kisagotami 1 But didst thou find 
These ?" 

'* I went. Lord, clasping to my breast 
The babe, grown colder, asking at each hut- 
Here in the jungle and towards the town — 
* I pray you, give me mustard, of your grace, 
A tola — black ; ' and each who had it gave, 
For all the poor are piteous to the poor ; 
But when I asked, * In my friend's household 

here 
Hath any peradventure ever died— 
Husband or wife, or child, or slave ? * thev 

said : 
' O Sister I what is this you ask ? the dead 



J 28 ^be Xlabt ot Bsla, 

Are very many, and the living few ! ' 

So with sad thanks I gave the mustard back, 

And prayed of others ; but the others said, 

* Here is the seed, but we have lost our slave !' 

* Here is the seed, but our good man is dead ! ' 

* Here is some seed, but he that sowed it died 
Between the rain-time and the harvesting ! ' 
Ah, sir ! I could not find a single house 
Where there was mustard-seed and none harf 

died! 
Therefore I left my child — who would not suck 
Nor smile — beneath the wild-vines by the 

stream. 
To seek thy face and kiss thy feet, and pray 
Where I might find this seed and find no 

death, 
If now, indeed, my baby be not dead. 
As I do fear, and as they said to me." 

" My sister ! thou hast found," the Master 

said, 
"Searching for what none finds — that bitter 

balm 
I had to give thee. He thou lovedst slept 
Dead on thy bosom yesterday : to-day 
Thou know'st the whole wide world weeps with 

thy woe : 



JBooft tbc jPiitb* 129 

The grief which all hearts share grows less for 

one. 
Lo ! I would pour my blood if it could stay 
Thy tears and win the secret of that curse 
Which makes sweet love our anguish, and 

which drives 
O'er flowers and pastures to the sacrifice — 
As these dumb beasts are driven — men their 

lords. 
I seek that secret : bury thou thy child ! " 

So entered they the city side by side, 
The herdsmen and the Prince, what time the 

sun 
Gilded slow Sona's distant stream, and threw 
Long shadows down the street and through 

the gate 
Where the King's men kept watch. But when 

these saw 
Our Lord bearing the lamb, the guards stood 

back, 
The market-people drew their wains aside, 
In the bazaar buyers and sellers stayed 
The war of tongues to gaze on that mild face j 
The smith, with lifted hammer in his hand, 
Forgot to strike ; the weaver left his web, 
The scribe his scroll, the money-changer lost 

9 



130 XTbe Xlabt ot Beta. 

His count of cowries ; from the unwatched rice 
Shiva's white bull fed free ; the wasted milk 
Ran o'er the lota while the milkers watched 
The passage of our Lord moving so meek, 
With yet so beautiful a majesty. 
But most the women gathering in the doors 
Asked, " Who is this that brings the sacrifice 
So graceful and peace-giving as he goes ? 
What is his caste ? whence hath he eyes so 

sweet ? 
Can he be Sakra or the Devaraj ? " 
And others said, " It is the holy man 
Who dwelleth with the Rishis on the hill." 
But the Lord paced, in meditation lost. 
Thinking, '* Alas ! for all my sheep which have 
No shepherd; wandering in the night with 

none 
To guide them ; bleating blindly towards the 

knife 
Of Death, as these dumb beasts which are 

their kin." 

Then some one told the King, "There 
Cometh here 
A holy hermit, bringing down the flock 
Which thou didst bid to crown the sacrifice." 

The King stood in his hall of offering, 



31900!^ tbe 3fittb. 131 

On either hand the white-robed Brahmans 

ranged 
Muttered their mantras, feeding still the fire 
Which roared upon the midmost altar. There 
From scented woods flickered bright tongues 

of flame, 
Hissing and curling as they licked the gifts 
Of ghee and spices and the Soma juice, 
The joy of Indra. Round about the pile 
A slow, thick, scarlet streamlet smoked and 

ran, 
Sucked by the sand, but ever rolling down, 
The blood of bleating victims. One such lay, 
A spotted goat, long-horned, its head bound 

back 
With munja grass ; at its stretched throat the 

knife 
Pressed by a priest, who murmured, " This, 

dread gods. 
Of many yajnas cometh as the crown 
From Bimbasara : take ye joy to see 
The spirted blood, and pleasure in the scent 
Of rich flesh roasting 'mid the fragrant flames; 
Let the King's sins be laid upon this goat, 
And let the fire consume them burning it, 
For now I strike." 

But Buddha softly said, 



132 ^be %iQbt ot Bsfa. 

** Let him not strike, great King ! " and there* 

with loosed 
The victim's bonds, none staying him, so great 
His presence was. Then, craving leave, he 

spake 
Of life, which all can take but none can give, 
Life, which all creatures love and strive to 

keep. 
Wonderful, dear and pleasant unto each, 
Even to the meanest ; yea, a boon to all 
Where pity is, for pity makes the world 
Soft to the weak and noble for the strong. 
Unto the dumb lips of his flock he lent 
Sad pleading words, showing how man, who 

prays 
For mercy to the gods, is merciless, 
Being as god to those ; albeit all life 
Is linked and kin, and what we slay have 

given 
Meek tribute of the milk and wool, and set 
Fast trust upon the hands which murder them. 
Also he spake of what the holy books 
Do surely teach, how that at death some sink 
To bird and beast, and these rise up to man 
In wanderings of the spark which grows purged 

flame. 
So were the sacrifice new sin, if so 



JBcok tbc mttli* 13$ 

The fated passage of a soul be stayed. 

Nor, spake he, shall one wash his spirit clean 

By blood ; nor gladden gods, being good, with 

blood ; 
Nor bribe them, being evil ; nay, nor lay 
Upon the brow of innocent bound beasts 
One hair's weight of that answer all must give 
For all things done amiss or wrongfully, 
Alone, each for himself, reckoning with that 
The fixed arithmic of the universe. 
Which meteth good for good and ill for ill, 
Measure for measure, unto deeds, words^ 

thoughts ; 
Watchful, aware, implacable, unmoved; 
Making all futures fruits of all the pasts. 
Thus spake he, breathing words so piteous 
With such high lordliness of ruth and right, 
The priests drew back their garments o'er the 

hands 
Crimsoned with slaughter, and the King came 

near, 
Standing with clasped palms reverencing 

Buddh ; 
While still our Lord went on, teaching how 

fair 
This earth were if all living things be linked 
In friendliness and common use of foods, 



134 ^I5e Xigbt of Beia, 

Bloodless and pure ; the golden grain, bright 

fruits, 
Sweet herbs which grow for all, the waters wan, 
Sufficient drinks and meats. Which when 

these heard. 
The might of gentleness so conquered them. 
The priests themselves scattered their altar- 
flames 
And flung away the steel of sacrifice ; 
And through the land next day passed a 

decree 
Proclaimed by criers, and in this wise graved 
On rock and column : " Thus the King's will 

is : — 
There hath been slaughter for the sacrifice 
And slaying for the meat, but henceforth 

none 
Shall spill the blood of life nor taste of flesh, 
Seeing that knowledge grows, and life is one, 
And mercy cometh to the merciful." 
So ran the edit, and from those days forth 
Sweet peace hath spread between all living 

kind, 
Man and the beasts which serve him, and the 

birds, 
On all those banks of Gunga where our Lord 
Taught with his saintly pity and soft speech. 



:©ooft tbe f ittb» 135 

For aye so piteous was the Master's heart 
To all that breathe this breath of fleeting life, 
Yoked in one fellowship of joys and pains, 
That it is written in the holy books 
How, in an ancient age — when Buddha wore 
A Brahman's form, dwelling upon the rock 
Named Munda, by the village of D^lidd — 
Drought withered all the land : the young rice 

died 
Ere it could hide a quail ; in forest glades 
A fierce sun sucked the pools ; grasses and 

herbs 
Sickened, and all the woodland creatures fled 
Scattering for sustenance. At such a time, 
Between the hot walls of a nullah, stretched 
On naked stones, our Lord spied, as he passed, 
A starving tigress. Hunger in her orbs 
Glared with green flame ; her dry tongue lolled 

a span 
Beyond the gasping jaws and shrivelled jowl ; 
Her painted hide hung wrinkled on her ribs, 
As when between the rafters sinks a thatch 
Rotten with rains ; and at the poor lean dugs 
Two cubs, whining with famine, tugged and 

sucked, 
Mumbling those milkless teats which rendered 

nought, 



136 ^be %{Q\)t of B0(a, 

While she, their gaunt dam, licked full motherly 
The clamorous twins, yielding her flank to them 
With moaning throat, and love stronger than 

want. 
Softening the first of that wild cry wherewith 
She laid her famished muzzle to the sand 
And roared a savage thunder-peal of woe. 
Seeing which bitter strait, and heeding nought 
Save the immense compassion of a Buddh, 
Our Lord bethought, " There is no other way 
To help this murderess of the woods but one. 
By sunset these will die, having no meat : 
There is no living heart will pity her, 
Bloody with ravin, lean for lack of blood. 
Lo ! if I feed her, who shall lose but I, 
And how can love lose doing of its kind 
Even to the uttermost ? " So saying, Buddh 
Silently laid aside sandals and staff. 
His sacred thread, turban, and cloth, and came 
Forth from behind the milk-bush on the sand, 
Saying, " Ho ! mother, here is meat for thee ! " 
Whereat the perishing beast yelped hoarse and 

shrill. 
Sprang from her cubs, and, hurling to the earth 
That willing victim, had her feast of him 
With all the crooked daggers of her claws 
Rending his flesh, and all her yellow fangs 



JBooft tbe jpiftb. 137 

Bathed in his blood : the great cat's burning 

breath 
Mixed with the last sigh of such fearless love. 

Thus large the Master's heart was long ago, 
Not only now, when with his gracious ruth 
He bade cease cruel worship of the Gods. 
And much King Bimbasara prayed our Lord^ 
Learning his royal birth and holy search — 
To tarry in that city, saying oft, 
" Thy princely state may not abide such fasts; 
Thy hands were made for sceptres, not for 

alms. 
Sojourn with me, who have no son to rule, 
And teach my kingdom wisdom, till I die, 
Lodged in my palace with a beauteous bride.** 
But ever spake Siddartha, of set mind, 
*^ These things I had, most noble King, and 

left. 
Seeking the Truth; which still I seek, and 

shall ; 
Not to be stayed though Sakra's palace ope'd 
Its doors of pearl and Devis wooed me in. 
I go to build the Kingdom of the Law, 
Journeying to Gaya and the forest shades, 
Where, as I think, the light will come to mej 
For nowise here among the Rishis comes 



138 Zhc Xiflbt ot Bsia. 

That light, nor from the Shasters, nor from 

fasts 
Borne till the body faints, starved by the souL 
Yet there is light to reach and truth to win ; 
And surely, O true Friend, if I attain 
I will return and quit thy love." 

Thereat 
Thrice round the Prince King Bimbas^ra 

paced, 
Reverently bending to the Master's feet, 
And bade him speed. So passed our Lord 

away 
Towards Uravilva, not yet comforted. 
And wan of face, and weak with six years* 

quest. 
But they upon the hill and in the grove — 
Al^ra, Udra, and the ascetics five — 
Had stayed him, saying all was written clear 
In holy Shasters, and that none might win 
Higher than Sruft and than Smriti — nay. 
Not the chief saints ! — for how should mortal 

man 
Be wiser than the Jnana-Kand, which t^lls 
How Brahm is bodiless and action less. 
Passionless, calm, unqualified, unchanged, 
Pure life, pure thought, pure joy? Or how 

should man 



:BSooft tbe fittb 139 

Be better than the Karmma-Kand,which shows 
How he may strip passion and action off, 
Break from the bond of self, and so, unsphered, 
Be God, and melt into the vast divine. 
Flying from false to true, from wars of sense 
To peace eternal, where the silence lives ? 

But the Prince heard them, not yet comforted 



r40 ^^e ^ifibt ot Bdi^ 



g00lt to <^iJrtlw 



Thou who wouldst see where dawned the light 

at last, 
North-westwards from the "Thousand Gar- 
dens " go 
By Gunga's valley till thy steps be set 
On the green hills where those twin streamlets 

spring 
Nildjan and Mohana; follow them, 
Winding beneath broad-leaved mahua-trees, 
*Mid thickets of the sansar and the bir, 
Till on the plain the shining sisters meet 
In Phalgii's bed, flowing by rocky banks 
To Gaya and the red Barabar hills. 
Hard by that river spreads a thorny waste, 
Uruwelaya named in ancient days, 
With sandhills broken ; on its verge a wood 
Waves sea-green plumes and tassels 'thwart 

the sky, 
With undergrowth wherethrough a still flood 

steals, 
Dappled with lotus-blossoms, blue and whiter 



JSooft tbe Sdtb. 141 

A.nd peopled with quick fish and tortoises. 

Near it the village of Senani reared 

Its roofs of grass, nestled amid the palms, 

Peaceful with simple folk and pastoral toilSi 

There in the sylvan solitudes once more 
Lord Buddha lived, musing the woes of men. 
The ways of fate, the doctrines of the books, 
The lessons of the creatures of the brake, 
The secrets of the silence whence all come, 
The secrets of the gloom whereto all go, 
The life which lies between, like that arch 

flung 
From cloud to cloud across the sky, which 

hath 
Mists for its masonry and vapory piers, 
Melting to void again which was so fair 
With sapphire hues, garnet, and chrysoprase. 
Moon after moon our Lord sate in the wood, 
So meditating these that he forgot 
Ofttimes the hour of food, rising from thoughts 
Prolonged beyond the sunrise and the noon 
To see his bowl unfilled, and eat perforce 
Of wild fruit fallen from the boughs o'erhead, 
Shaken to earth by chattering ape or plucked 
By purple parokeet. Therefore his grace 
Faded ; his body, worn by stress of soul 



143 ^be Xifibt of Bsfa, 

Lost day by day the marks, thirty and two, 
Which testify the Buddha. Scarce that lea^ 
Fluttering so dry and withered to his feet 
From off the sdl-branch, bore less likeliness 
Of spring's soft greenery than he of him 
Who was the princely flower of all his land. 

And once at such a time the o'erwrought 
Prince 
Fell to the earth in deadly sworn, all spent. 
Even as one slain, who hath no longer breath 
Nor any stir of blood ; so wan he was, 
So motionless. But there came by that way 
A shepherd-boy, who saw Sidddrtha lie 
With lids fast-closed, and lines of nameless 

pain 
Fixed on his lips — the fiery noonday sun 
Beating upon his head — who, plucking boughs 
From wild rose-apple trees, knitted them thick 
Into a bower to shade the sacred face. 
Also he poured upon the Master's lips 
Drops of warm milk, pressed from bis she- 
goat's bag. 
Lest, being of low caste, he do wrong to one 
So high and holy seeming. But the books 
Tell how the jambu-branches, planted thus, 
Shot with quick life in wealth of leaf and 
flower 



3Book tbe Slartft. 143 

And glowing fruitage interlaced and close, 
So that the bower grew like a tent of silk 
Pitched for a king at hunting, decked with 

studs 
Of silver-work and bosses of red gold. 
And the boy worshipped, deeming him some 

God; 
But our Lord gaining breath, arose and asked 
Milk in the shepherd's lota. " Ah, my Lord, 
I cannot give thee," quoth the lad ; " thou 

seest 
I am a Sudra, and my touch defiles ! " 
Then th^e World-honored spake : " Pity and 

need 
Make all flesh kin. There is no caste in blood, 
Which runneth of one hue, nor caste in tears, 
Which trickle salt with, all ; neither comes man 
To birth with tilka-mark stamped on the brow, 
Nor sacred thread on neck. Who doth right 

deeds 
Is twice-born, and who doeth ill deeds vile. 
Give me to drink, my brother ; when I come 
Unto my quest it shall be good for thee." 
Thereat the peasant's heart was glad, and 

gave. 

And on another day there passed that road 



144 ^^^ Xiflbt ot Bsia. 

A band of tinselled girls, the nautch-dancers 
Of Indra's temple in the town, with those 
Who made their music — one that beat a drum 
Set round with peacock-feathers, one that blew 
The piping bansuli, and one that twitched 
A three-string sitar. Lightly tripped they 

down 
From ledge to ledge and through the chequered 

paths 
To some gay festival, the silver bells 
Chiming soft peals about the small brown feet, 
Armlets and wrist-rings tattling answer shrill ; 
While he that bore the sitar thrummed and 

twanged 
His threads of brass, and she beside him 

sang — 

** Fair goes the dancing when the sitar s tuned; 
Tune us the sitar neither low nor high. 
And we will dance away the hearts of -men. 

The string o' er stretched breaks, and the 

music flies; 
The string o'erslack is dumb, and music 

dies ; 
Tune us the sitar neither low nor high. " 

So sang the nautch-girl to the pipe and wires, 



J5ooft tbe Slitb. 145 

Fluttering like some vain, painted butterfly 
From glade to glade along the forest path, 
Nor dreamed her light words echoed on the 

ear 
Of him, that holy man, who sate so rapt 
Under the fig-tree by the path. But Buddh 
Lifted his great brow as the wantons passed, 
And spake : " The foolish ofttimes teach the 

wise ; 
I strain too much this string of life, belike. 
Meaning to make such music as shall save. 
Mine eyes are dim now that they see the truth, 
My strength is waned now that my need is 

most; 
Would that I had such help as man must have, 
For I shall die, whose life was all men's hope." 

Now, by that river dwelt a landholder 
Pious and rich, master of many herds, 
A goodly chief, the friend of all the poor ; 
And from his house the village drew its name— ■ 
*' Senani." Pleasant and in peace he lived, 
Having for wife Sujata, loveliest 
Of all the dark-eyed daughters of the plain ; 
Gentle and true, simple and kind was she. 
Noble of mien, with gracious speech to all 
And gladsome looks — a pearl of womanhood—' 
10 



146 Zbc %iQbt ot Bsia. 

Passing calm years of household happiness 
Beside her lord in that still Indian home, 
Save that no male child blessed their wedded 

love. 
Wherefore with many prayers she had be- 
sought 
Lukshmi ; and many nights at full-moon gone 
Round the great Lingam, nine times nine, 

with gifts 
Of rice and jasmine wreaths and sandal oil, 
Praying a boy ; also Sujata vowed — 
If this should be — an offering of food 
Unto the Wood-God, plenteous, delicate, 
Set in a bowl of gold under his tree, 
Such as the lips of Devs may taste and take. 
And this had been : for there was born to her 
A beauteous boy, now three months old, who lay 
Between Sujata's breasts, while she did pace 
With grateful foot-steps to the Wood-God's 

shrine. 
One arm clasping her crimson sari close 
To wrap the babe, that jewel of her joys, 
The other lifted high in comely curve 
To steady on her head the bowl and dish 
Which held the dainty victuals for the God. 

But Radha, sent before to sweep the ground 



JSooft tbe Siitb, 147 

Ard tie the scarlet threads around the tree, 
Came eager, crying, "Ah, dear Mistress! 

look! 
There is the Wood-God sitting in his place, 
Revealed, with folded hands upon his knees. 
See how the light shines round about his 

brow ! 
How mild and great he seems, with heavenly 

eyes! 
Good fortune is it thus to meet the gods." 

So, — thinking him divine, — Sujata drew 
Tremblingly nigh, and kissed the earth and 

said. 
With sweet face bent, " Would that the Holy 

One 
Inhabiting this grove, Giver of good. 
Merciful unto me his handmaiden, 
Vouchsafing now his presence, might accept 
The our poor gifts of snowy curds, fresh- 
made, 
With milk as white as new-carved ivory ! " 

Therewith into the golden bowl she poured 
The curds and milk, and on the hands of 

Buddh 
Dropped attar from a crystal flask — distilled 



148 ^be %iQbt of Bsla. 

Out of the hearts of roses : and he ate, 
Speaking no word, while the glad mothd 

stood 
In reverence apart. But of that meal 
So wondrous was the virtue that our Lord 
Felt strength and life return as though the 

nights 
Of watching and the days of fast had passed 
In dream, as though the spirit with the flesh 
Shared that fine meat and plumed its wings 

anew, 
Like some delighted bird at sudden streams 
Weary with flight o'er endless wastes of sand, 
Which laves the desert dust from neck and 

crest. 
And more Sujtaa worshipped, seeing our Lord 
Grow fairer and his countenance more bright : 
" Art thou indeed the God ? " she lowly asked, 
** And hath my gift found favor } " 

But Buddh said| 
** What is it thou dost bring me ? " 

" Holy one ! " 
Answered Sujtka, " from our droves I took 
Milk of a hundred mothers newly-calved, 
And with that milk I fed fifty white cows. 
And with their milk twenty-and-five, and then 



JSooft tbe Siitb. 149 

With theirs twelve more, and yet again with 

theirs 
The six noblest and best of all our herds. 
That yield I boiled with sandal and fine spice 
In silver lotas, adding rice, well grown 
From chosen seed, set in new-broken ground, 
So picked that every grain was like a pearl. 
This did I of true heart, because I vowed 
Under thy tree, if I should bear a boy 
I would make offering for my joy, and now 
I have my son and all my life is bliss !" 

Softly our Lord drew down the crimson fold, 
And, laying on the little head those hands 
Which help the worlds, he said, " Long be thy 

bliss ! 
And lightly fall on him the load of life ! 
For thou hast holpen me who am no God, 
But one, thy Brother ; heretofore a Prince 
And now a wanderer, seeking night and day 
These six hard years that light which some- 
where shines 
To lighten all men's darkness, if they knew ! 
And I shall find the light; yea, now it 

dawned 
Glorious and helpful, when my weak flesh failed 
Which this pure food, fair Sister, hath re- 
stored, 



150 Zbc Xigbt of Baia, 

Drawn manifold through lives to quicken life 
As life itself passes by many births 
To happier heights and purging off of sins. 
Vet dost thou truly find it sweet enough 
Only to live ? Can life and love suffice ? " 

Answered Sujtaa, " Worshipful ! my heart 
Is little, and a little rain will fill 
The lily's cup which hardly moists the field. 
It is enough for me to feel life's sun 
Shine in my Lord's grace and my baby's 

smile, 
Making the loving summer of our home. 
Pleasant my days pass filled with household 

cares 
From sunrise when I wake to praise the gods, 
And give forth grain, and trim the tulsi-plant, 
And set my handmaids to their tasks, till 

noon. 
When my Lord lays his head upon my lap 
Lulled by soft songs and wavings of the fan ; 
And so to supper-time at quiet eve. 
When by his side I stand and serve the cakes. 
Then the stars light their silver lamps fot 

sleep, 
After the temple and the talk with friends. 
How should I not be happy, blest so much, 



JSooft tbe Slitb. 151 

And bearing him this boy whose tiny hand 
Shall lead his soul to Swerga, if it need ? 
For holy books teach when a man shall plant 
Trees for the travellers' shade, and dig a well 
For the folks' comfort, and beget a son. 
It shall be good for such after their death ; 
And what the books say that I humbly take, 
Being not wiser than those great of old 
Who spake with gods, and knew the hymns 

and charms, 
And all the ways of virtue and of peace. 
Also I think that good must come of good 
And ill of evil — surely — unto all — 
In every place and time — seeing sweet fruit 
Groweth from wholesome roots, and bitter 

things 
From poison-stocks ; yea, seeing, too, how 

spite 
Breeds hate, and kindness friends, and pa- 
tience peace 
Even while we live ; and when 'tis willed we 

die 
Shall there not be as good a * Then ' as * Now * ? 
Haply much better ! since one grain of rice 
Shoots a green feather gemmed with fifty 

pearls, 
And all the starry champak's white arid gold 



152 ^be Xigbt ot B6ia. 

Lurks in those little, naked, grey spring-buds, 
Ah, Sir ! I know there might be woes to beal 
Would lay fond Patience with her face in dust ', 
If this my babe pass first I think my heart 
Would break — almost I hope my heart would 

break ! 
That I might clasp him dead and wait my 

Lord — 
In whatsoever world holds faithful wives — 
Duteous, attending till his hour should come. 
But if Death called Senani, I should mount 
The pile and lay that dear head in my lap, 
My daily way, rejoicing when the torch 
Lit the quick flame and rolled the choking 

smoke. 
For it is written if an Indian wife 
Die so, her love shall give her husband's soul 
For every hair upon her head a crore 
Of years in Swerga. Therefore fear I not. 
And therefore, Holy Sir ! my life is glad, 
Nowise forgetting yet those other lives 
Painful and poor, wicked and miserable, 
Whereon the gods grant pity ! but for me, 
What good I see humbly I seek to do, 
And live obedient to the law, in trust 
That what will come, and must come, shall 

come well. " 



:©oo!i tbe Siitb 153 

Then spake our Lord, " Thou teachest them 

who teach, 
Wiser than wisdom in thy simple lore. 
Be thou content to know not, knowing thus 
Thy way of right and duty : grow, thou flower ! 
With thy sweet kind in peaceful shade — the 

light 
Of Truth's high noon is not for tender leaves 
Which must spread broad in other suns and 

lift 
In later lives a crowned head to the sky. 
Thou who hast worshipped me, I worship thee I 
Excellent heart ! learned unknowingly. 
As the dove is which flieth home by love. 
In thee is seen why there is hope for man 
And where we hold the wheel of life at will. 
Peace go with thee, and comfort all thy days ! 
As thou accompHshest, may I achieve ! 
He whom thou thoughtest God bids thee wish 

this." 

"May'st thou achieve," she said, with ear- 
nest eyes 
Bent on her babe, who reached its tender 

hands 
To Buddh — knowing, belike, as children know, 
More than we deem, and reverencing our Lord; 



154 ^t>e %iQbi Qt 2lsia. 

But he arose — made strong with that pure 

meat — 
And bent his footsteps where a great Tree 

grew, 
The Bodhi-tree (thenceforward in all years 
Never to fade, and ever to be kept 
In homage of the world), beneath whose leaves 
It was ordained that truth should come to 

Buddh : 
Which now the Master knew; wherefore he 

went 
With measured pace, steadfast, majestical, 
Unto the Tree of Wisdom. Oh, ye Worlds ! 
Rejoice ! our Lord wended unto the Tree ! 

Whom — as he passed into its ample shade. 
Cloistered with columned drooping stems, and 

roofed 
With vaults of glistening green — the conscious 

earth 
Worshipped with waving grass and sudden 

flush 
Of flowers about his feet. The forest-boughs 
Bent down to shade him ; from the river sighed 
Cool wafts of wind laden with lotus-scents 
Breathed by the water-gods. Large wonder- 
ing eyes 



JiSool; tbe Siitb. 155 

Of woodland creatures — panther, boar, and 

deer — 
At peace that eve, gazed on his face benign 
From cave and thicket. From its cold cleft 

wound 
The mottled deadly snake, dancing its hood 
In honor of our Lord ; bright butterflies 
Fluttered their vans, azure and green and gold, 
To be his fan-bearers ; the fierce kite dropped 
Its prey and screamed ; the striped palm-squir- 
rel raced 
From stem to stem to see ; the weaver-bird 
Chirped from her swinging nest ; the lizard 

ran ; 
The koil sang her hymn ; the doves flocked 

round ; 
Even the creeping things were 'ware and glad. 
Voices of earth and air joined in one song, 
Which unto ears that hear said, " Lord and 

Friend ! 
Lover and Saviour ! Thou who hast subdued 
Angers and prides, desires and fears and 

doubts. 
Thou that for each and all hast given thyself. 
Pass to the Tree ! The sad world blesseth thee 
Who art the Buddh that shall assuage hei 

woes. 



156 ^bc Xlgbt of Bsia, 

Pass, Hailed and Honored ! strive thy last 

for us, 
King and high Conqueror! thine hour is 

come ; 
This is the Night the ages waited for ! '* 

Then fell the night even as our Master sate 
Under that Tree. But he who is the Prince 
Of Darkness, Mara — knowing this was Buddh 
Who should deliver men, and now the hour 
When he should find the Truth and save the 

worlds 
Gave unto all his evil powers command. 
Wherefore there trooped from every deepest 

pit 
The fiends who war with Wisdom and the Light, 
Arati, Trishna, Raga, and their crew 
Of passions, horrors, ignorances, lusts. 
The brood of gloom and dread ; all hating 

Buddh, 
Seeking to shake his mind ; nor knoweth one, 
Not even the wisest, how those fiends of Hell 
Battled that night to keep the Truth from 

Buddh : 
Sometimes with terrors of the tempest, blasts 
Of demon-armies clouding all the wind, 
With thunder, and with blinding lightning flung 



JBooIi tbe Siitb* 157 

In jagged javelins of purple wrath 

From splitting skies ; sometimes with wiles and 

words 
Fair-sounding, 'mid hushed leaves and softened 

airs 
From shapes of witching beauty ; wanton 

songs, 
Whispers of love ; sometimes with royal allures 
Of proffered rule ; sometimes with mocking 

doubts, 
Making truth vain. But whether these befell 
Without and visible, or whether Buddh 
Strove with fell spirits in his inmost heart, 
Judge ye : — I write what ancient books have 

writ. 

The ten chief Sins came — Mara's mighty 

ones. 
Angels of evil — Attavada first, 
The Sin of Self, who in the Universe 
As in a mirror sees her fond face shown, 
And crying " I "would have the world say " I," 
And all things perish so if she endure. 
" If thou be'st Buddh," she said, " let others 

grope 
Lightless ; it is enough that thou art Thou 
Changelessly ; rise and take the bliss of gods 



158 ^be Xifitt of Bma. 

Who change not, heed not, strive not." But 

Buddh spake, 
" The right in thee is base, the wrong a curse ; 
Cheat such as love themselves." Then came 

wan Doubt, 
He that denies — the mocking Sin — and this 
Hissed in the Master's ear, " All things are 

shows, 
And vain the knowledge of their vanity ; 
Thou dost but chase the shadow of thyself ; 
Rise and go hence, there is no better way 
Than patient scorn, nor any help for man, 
Nor any staying of his whirling wheel." 
But quoth our Lord, " Thou hast no part with 

me, 
False Visikitcha, subtlest of man's foes." 
And third came she who gives dark creeds 

their power, 
Slabbat-paramasa, sorceress, 
Draped fair in many lands as lowly Faith, 
But ever juggling souls with rites and prayers ; 
The keeper of those keys which lock up Hells 
And open Heavens. " Wilt thou dare," she 

said, 
"Put by our sacred books, dethrone out 

gods, 
Unpeople all the temples, shaking dawn 



3Booft tbe Siitb. ' 159 

That law which feeds the priests and props 

the realms ? " 
But Buddha answered, " What thou bidd'st me 

keep 
Is form which passes, but the free Truth 

stands ; 
Get thee untothy darkness." Next there drew 
Gallantly nigh a braver Tempter, he, 
Kama, the King of passions, who hath sway 
Over the Gods themselves, Lord of all loves, 
Ruler of Pleasure's realm. Laughing he 

came 
Unto the Tree, bearing his bow of gold 
Wreathed with red blooms, and arrows of de- 
sire 
Pointed with five-tongued delicate flame which 

stings 
The heart it smites sharper than poisoned 

barb : 
And round him came into that lonely place 
Bands of bright shapes with heavenly eyes and 

lips 
Singing in lovely words the praise of Love 
To music of invisible sweet chords, 
So witching, that it seemed the night stood 

still 
To hear them, and the listening stars and moon 



i6o ^bc Xfgbt of Bsia. 

Paused in their orbits while these hymned to 

Buddh 
Of lost delights, and how a mortal man 
Findeth nought dearer in the three wide worlds 
Than are the yielded loving fragrant breasts 
Of Beauty and the rosy breast-blossoms, 
Love's rubies ; nay, and toucheth nought more 

high 
Than is that dulcet harmony of form 
Seen in the lines and charms of loveliness 
Unspeakable, yet speaking, soul to soul. 
Owned by the bounding blood, worshipped by 

will 
Which leaps to seize it, knowing this is best, 
This the true heaven where mortals are like 

gods. 
Makers and Masters, this the gift of gifts 
Ever renewed and worth a thousand woes. 
For who hath grieved when soft arms shut him 

safe, 
And all life melted to a happy sigh. 
And all the world was given in one warm kiss ? 
So sang they with soft float of beckoning hands, 
Eyes lighted with love-flames, alluring smiles ; 
In dainty dance their supple sides and limbs 
Revealing and concealing like burst buds 
Which tell their color, but hide yet their hearts 



Soofi tbe Siitb. i6i 

Never so matchless grace delighted eye 

As troop by troop these midnight-dancers 

swept 
Nearer the Tree, each daintier than the last, 
Murmuring " O great Siddartha ! I am thine. 
Taste of my mouth and see if youth is sweet i " 
Also, when nothing moved our Master's mind, 
Lo ! Kama waved his magic bow, and lo ! 
The band of dancers opened, and a shape 
Fairest and stateliest of the throng came forth 
Wearing the guise of sweet Yasodhara. 
Tender the passion of those dark eyes seemed 
Brimming with tears ; yearning those outspread 

arms 
Opened towards him ; musical that moan 
Wherewith the beauteous shadow named his 

name, 
Sighing " My Prince ! I die for lack of thee ! 
What heaven hast thou found like that we 

knew 
By bright Rohini in the Pleasure-house, 
Where all these weary years I weep for thee ? 
Return, Siddartha ! ah ! return. But touch 
My lips again, but let me to thy breast 
Once, and these fruitless dreams will end! 

Ah, look ! 
Am I not she thou lovedst ? " But Buddh said, 

II 



i62 ^be %iQbt ot Bsia. 

" For that sweet sake of her thou playest thui 
Fair and false Shadow ! is thy playing vain ; 
J. curse thee not who wear'st a form so dear, 
Yet as thou art so are all earthly shows. 
Melt to thy void again ! " Thereat a cry 
Thrilled through the grove, and all that comely 

rout 
Faded with flickering wafts of flame, and trail 
Of vaporous robes. 

Next under darkening skies 
And noise of rising storm came fiercer Sins, 
The rearmost of the Ten ; Patigha — Hate — 
With serpents coiled about her waist, which 

suck 
Poisonous milk from both her hanging dugs, 
And with her curses mix their angry hiss. 
Little wrought she upon that Holy One 
Who with his calm eyes dumbed her bitter lips 
And made her black snakes writhe to hide 

their fangs. 
Then followed Ruparaga — Lust of days — 
That sensual Sin which out of greed for life 
Forgets to live ; and next him Lust of Fame, 
Nobler Aruparaga, she whose spell 
Beguiles the wise, mother of daring deeds. 
Battles and toils. And haughty Mano came, 
The Fiend of Pride ; and smooth Self-Right 

eousness, 



:©ooh tbc G:bicO. 163 

Uddhachcha ; and — with many a hideous band 
Of vile and formless things, which crept and 

flapped 
Toad-like and bat-like — Ignorance, the Dam 
Of Fear and Wrong, Avidya, hideous hag, 
Whose footsteps left the midnight darker, 

while 
The rooted mountains shook, the wild winds 

howled, 
The broken clouds shed from their caverns 

streams 
Of levin-lighted rain ; stars shot from heaven, 
The solid earth shuddered as if one laid 
Flame to her gaping wounds ; the torn black 

air 
Was full of whistling wings, of screams and 

yells, 
Of evil faces peering, of vast fronts 
Terrible and majestic. Lords of Hell 
Who from a thousand Limbos led their troops 
To tempt the Master. 

But Buddh heeded not, 
Sitting serene, with perfect virtue walled 
As is a stronghold by its gates and ramps ; 
Also the Sacred Tree — the Bodhi-tree — 
Amid that tumult stirred not, but each leaf 
Glistened as still as when on moonlit eves 



164 ^bc Xigbt ot Bsia. 

No zephyr spills the glittering gems of dew^ 
For all this clamor raged outside the shade 
Spread by those cloistered stems : 

In the third watchi 
The earth being still, the hellish legions fled, 
A soft air breathing from the sinking moon, 
Our Lord attained Sam7na-sambuddh ; he saw 
By light which shines beyond our mortal ken 
The line of all his lives in all the worlds, 
Far back and farther back and farthest yet. 
Five hundred lives and fifty. Even as one, 
At rest upon a mountain-summit, marks 
His path wind up by precipice and crag, 
Past thick-set woods shrunk to a patch; 

through bogs 
Glittering false-green ; down hollows where he 

toiled 
Breathless ; on dizzy ridges where his feet 
Had well-nigh slipped ; beyond the sunny 

lawns, 
The cataract and the cavern and the pool. 
Backward to those dim flats wherefrom he 

sprang 
To reach the blue ; thus Buddha did behold 
Life's upward steps long-linked, from levels low 
Where breath is base, to higher slopes and 

higher 



:©ooft tbe Siitb* 165 

Whereon the ten great Virtues wait to lead 
The climber skyward. Also, Buddha saw 
How new life reaps what the old life did sow i 
How where its march breaks off its march be» 

gins; 
Holding the gain and answering for the loss ; 
And how in each life good begets more good, 
Evil fresh evil ; Death but casting up 
Debit or credit, whereupon th' account 
In merits or demerits stamps itself 
By sure arithmic — where no tittle drops — 
Certain and just, on some new-springing life ; 
Wherein are packed and scored past thoughts 

and deeds 
Strivings and triumphs, memories and marks 
Of lives foregone : 



And in the middle watch 
Our Lord attained Ahhidjna — insight vast 
Ranging beyond this sphere to spheres un- 
named, 
System on system, countless worlds and suns 
Moving in splendid measures, band by band 
Linked in division, one yet separate, 
The silver islands of a sapphire sea 
Shoreless, unfathomed, undiminished, stirred 



i66 ^be Xfgbt of asia. 

With waves which roll in restless tides of 

change. 
He saw those Lords of Light who hold their 

worlds 
By bonds invisible, how they themselves 
Circle obedient round mightier orbs 
Which serve profounder splendors, star to star 
Flashing the ceaseless radiance of life 
From centres ever shifting unto cirques 
Knowing no uttermost. These he beheld 
With unsealed vision, and of all those worlds 
Cycle on epicycle, all their tale* 
Of Kalpas, Mahakalpas — terms of time 
Which no man grasps, yea, though he knew to 

count 
The drops in Gunga from her springs to the 

sea, 
Measureless unto speech — whereby these wax 
And wane ; whereby each of this heavenly 

host 
Fulfils its shining life and darkling dies. 
Sakwal by Sakwal, depths and heights he 

passed 
Transported through the blue infinitudes. 
Marking — behind all modes, above all spheres^ 
Beyond the burning impulse of each orb — 
That fixed decree at silent work which wills 



JBooft tbe Slitb. 167 

Evolve the dark to light, the dead to life. 

To fulness void, to form the yet unformed, 

Good unto better, better unto best, 

By wordless edict ; having none to bid, 

None to forbid ; for this is past all gods 

Immutable, unspeakable, supreme, 

A Power which builds, unbuilds, and builds 

again, 
Ruling all things accordant to the rule 
Of virtue, which is beauty, truth, and use. 
So that all things do well which serve the 

Power, 
And ill which hinder; nay, the worm does 

well 
Obedient to its kind ; the hawk does well 
Which carries bleeding quarries to its young ; 
The dewdrop and the star shine sisterly, 
Globing together in the common work ; 
And man who Uves to die, dies to live well 
So if he guide his ways by blamelessness 
And earnest will to hinder not but help 
All things both great and small which suffel 

life. 
These did our Lord see in the middle watch. 

But when the fourth watch cam.e the secret 
came 



i68 Zbe %iQbt of Ssla. 

Of Sorrow, which with evil mars the law, 
As damp and dross hold back the goldsmith's 

fire. 
Then was the Dukha-satya opened him 
First of the " Noble Truths ; " how Sorrow is 
Shadow to life, moving where life doth move ; 
Not to be laid aside until one lays 
Living aside, with all its changing states, 
Birth, growth, decay, love, hatred, pleasure, 

pain. 
Being and doing. How that none strips off 
These sad delights and pleasant griefs who 

lacks 
Knowledge to know them snares ; but he who 

knows 
Avidya — Delusion — sets those snares. 
Loves life no longer but ensues escape. 
The eyes of such a one are wide, he sees 
Delusion breeds Sankhara, Tendency 
Perverse : Tendency Energy- — Vidnnin— 
Whereby comes Namarupa, local form 
And name and bodiment, bringing the man 
With senses naked to the sensible, 
A helpless mirror of all shows which pass 
Across his heart; and so Vedana grows — 
* Sense-life ' — false in its gladness, fell in sad 

ness. 



JBooft tbe Siitb. 169 

But sad or glad, the Mother of Desire, 
Trishna, that thirst which makes the living 

drink 
Deeper and deeper of the false salt waves 
Whereon they float, pleasures, ambitions, 

wealth, 
Praise, fame, or domination, conquest, love^ 
Rich meats and robes, and fair abodes, and 

pride 
Of ancient lines, and lust of days, and strife 
To live, and sins that flow from strife, some 

sweet, 
Some bitter. Thus Life's thirst quenches 

itself 
With draughts which double thirst, but who is 

wise 
Tears from his soul this Trishna, feeds his 

sense 
No longer on false shows, files his firm mind 
To seek not, strive not, wrong not ; bearing 

meek 
All ills which flow from foregone wrongful* 

ness. 
And so constraining passions that they die 
Famished ; till all the sum of ended life — 
The Karma — all that total of a soul 
Which is the things it did, the thoughts it had, 



lyo ^be %iQbt of Bsfa. 

The * Self ' it wove — with woof of viewless 

time, 
Crossed on the warp invisible of acts — 
The outcome of him on the Universe, 
Grows pure and sinless ; either never more 
Needing to find a body and a place, 
Or so informing what fresh frame it takes 
In new existence that the new toils prove 
Lighter and lighter not to be at all, 
Thus " finishing the Path ; " free from Earth's 

cheats ; 
Released from all the skandhas of the flesh ; 
Broken from ties — from Upadanas — saved 
From whirling on the wheel ; aroused and 

sane 
As is a man wakened from hateful dreams. 
Until — greater than Kings, than Gods more 

glad !— 
The aching craze to live ends, and life 

glides — 
Lifeless — to nameless quiet, nameless joy, 
Blessed Nirvana — sinless, stirless rest- 
That change which never changes I 

Lo ! the Dawn 
Sprang with Buddh's Victory 1 lo I in the 
East 



JBooft tbe Siitb. 171 

Flamed the first fires of beauteous day, 

poured forth 
Through fleeting folds of Night's black drap- 
ery. 
High in the widening blue the herald-star 
Faded to paler silver as there shot 
Brighter and brightest bars of rosy gleam 
Across the grey. Far off the shadowy hills 
Saw the great Sun, before the world was 

'ware, 
And donned their crowns of crimson ; flower 

by flower 
Felt the warm breath of Morn and 'gan un- 
fold 
Their tender lids. Over the spangled grass 
Swept the swift footsteps of the lovely Light, 
Turning the tears of Night to joyous gems, 
Decking the earth with radiance, 'broidering 
The sinking storm-clouds with a golden fringe, 
Gilding the feathers of the palms, which 

waved 
Glad salutation ; darting beams of gold 
Into the glades ; touching with magic wand 
The stream to rippled ruby ; in the brake 
Finding the mild eyes of the antelopes 
And saying " It is day ; " in nested sleep 
Touching the small heads under many a wing 



172 ^be %iQbt of Bsfa, 

And whispering, *' Children, praise the light 

of day ! " 
Whereat there piped anthems of all the birds, 
The Koil's fluted song, the Bulbul's hymn, 
The " morning, morning " of the painted 

thrush. 
The twitter of the sunbirds starting forth 
To find the honey ere the bees be out. 
The grey crow's caw, the parrot's scream, the 

strokes 
Of the green hammersmith, the myna's chirp, 
The never finished love-talk of the doves : 
Yea 1 and so holy was the influence 
Of that high Dawn which came with victory 
That, far and near, in homes of men there 

spread 
An unknown peace. The slayer hid his 

knife ; 
The robber laid his plunder back ; the shroff 
Counted full tale of coins ; all evil hearts 
Grew gentle, kind hearts gentler, as the balm 
Of that divinest Daybreak lightened Earth. 
Kings at fierce war called truce ; the sick man 

leaped 
Laughing from beds of pain ; the dying smiled 
As though they knew that happy Morn was 

sprung 



31300ft tbc Slitb. 173 

From fountains farther than the utmost East ; 
And o'er the heart of sad Yasodhara, 
Sitting forlorn at Prince Siddartha's bed, 
Came sudden bliss, as if love should not fail 
Nor such vast sorrow miss to end in joy. 
So glad the World was — though it wist not 

why — 
That over desolate wastes went swooning 

songs 
Of mirth, the voice of bodiless Prets and 

Bhuts 
Foreseeing Buddh ; and Devas in the air 
Cried " It is finished, finished ! " and the 

priests 
Stood with the wandering people in the 

streets 
Watching those golden splendors flood the 

sky 
And saying " There hath happed some mighty 

thing." 
Also in Ran and Jungle grew that day 
Friendship amongst the creatures; spotted 

deer 
Browsed fearless where the tigress fed her 

cubs, 
And cheetahs lapped the pool beside the 

bucks ; 



174 ^be Xf0bt of Bsfa, 

Under the eagle's rocks the brown hares 

scoured 
While his fierce beak but preened an idle 

wing; 
The snake sunned all his jewels in the beam 
With deadly fangs in sheath • the shrike let 

pass 
The nestling-finch ; the emerald halcyons 
Sate dreaming while the fishes played be- 
neath, 
Nor hawked the merops, though the butter- 
flies — 
Crimson and blue and amber — flitted thick 
Around his perch ; the Spirit of our Lord 
Lay potent upon man and bird and beast, 
Even while he mused under that Bodhi-tree 
Glorified with the Conquest gained for all 
And lightened by a Light greater than Day's. 

Then he arose — radiant, rejoicing, strong — 
Beneath the Tree, and lifting high his voice 
Spake this, in hearing of all Times and 
Worlds :— 

Ankkajaiisangsdrang 
Sandhawissang anibhisang 
Gahakdraka ngawesanio 
Dukkhdjdtipunappunang 



JBooft tbe Slitb. 175 

Gahakarakadiihosi ; 
Punagehang nakdhasi ; 
Sahhdiephd sukhdbhaggd, 
Gahakutangwisang khitang ; 
Wisangklidragdtang chiitang ; 
Janhdnangkhayamajhagd. 

Many a House of Life 
Hath held me — seeking ever him who 

WROUGHT 

These prisons of the senses, sorrow- 
fraught ; 
Sore was my ceaseless strife I 

But now, 
Thou Builder of this Tabernacle — Thou ! 
I know Thee! Never shalt thou build 
again 

These walls of pain, 
Nor raise the roof-tree of deceits, nor 

LAY 

Fresh rafters on the clay ; 
Broken thy house is, and the ridge-polb 
split j 
Delusion fashioned it! 
Safe pass I thence — deliverance to ob 
tain. 



176 XTbe Xlgbt ot Baia. 



§00fe titie ^^^ventlt. 



Sorrowful dwelt the King Suddhodana 

All those long years among the Sakya Lords 

Lacking the speech and presence of his Son; 

Sorrowful sate the sweet Yasodhara 

All those long years, knowing no joy of life, 

Widowed of him her living Liege and Prince 

And ever, on the news of some recluse 

Seen far away by pasturing camel-men 

Or traders threading devious paths for gain, 

Messengers from the King had gone and 

come 
Bringing account of many a holy sage 
Lonely and lost to home ; but nought of him 
The crown of white Kapilavastu's line, 
The glory of her monarch and his hope, 
The heart's content of sweet Yasodhara, 
Far-wandered now, forgetful, changed, 01 

dead. 

But on a day in the Wasanta-time, 
When silver sprays swing on the mango 
trees 



JSooft tbe Scventb. 177 

And all the earth is clad with garb of spring, 
The Princess sate by that bright garden- 
stream 
Whose gliding glass, bordered with lotus-cups, 
Mirrored so often in the bliss gone by 
Their clinging hands and meeting lips. Her 

lids 
Were wan with tears, her tender cheeks had 

thinned ; 
Her lips' delicious curves were drawn with 

grief ; 
The lustrous glory of her hair was hid — 
Close bound as widows use ; no ornament 
She wore, nor any jewel clasped the cloth — 
Coarse, and of mourning-white — crossed ou 

her breast 
Slow moved and painfully those small fine 

feet 
Which had the roe's gait and the rose-leafs 

fall 
In old years at the loving voice of him. 
Her eyes, those lamps of love, — which were 

as if 
Sunlight should shine from out the deepest 

dark. 
Illumining Night's peace with Daytime's 

glow — 
la 



178 Ube 3Llgbt ot Bsia* 

Unlighted now, and roving aimlessly, 

Scarce marked the clustering signs of coming 

Spring 
So the silk lashes drooped over their orbs. 
In one hand was a girdle thick with pearls, 
Siddartha's — treasured since that night he 

fled— 
(Ah, bitter Night ! mother of weeping days 1 
When was fond Love so pitiless to love 
Save that this scorned to limit love by life ?) 
The other led her little son, a boy 
Divinely fair the pledge Siddartha left — 
Named Rahula — now seven years old, who 

tripped 
Gladsome beside his mother, light of heart 
To see the spring-blooms burgeon o'er the 

world. 

So while they lingered by the l9tus-pools 
And, lightly laughing, Rahula flung rice 
To feed the blue and purple fish ; and she 
With sad eyes watched the swiftly-flying 

cranes, 
Sighing, " Oh ! creatures of the wandering 

wing. 
If ye shall light where my dear Lord is hid, 
Say that Yasodhara lives nigh to death 



JBooft tbe Seventb. 179 

For one word of his mouth, one touch of 

him ! "— 
So, as they played and sighed — mother and 

child- 
Came some among the damsels of the Court 
Saying, " Great Princess ! there have entered 

in 
At the south gate merchants of Hastinpur 
Tripusha called and Bhalluk, men of worth, 
Long travelled from the loud sea's edge, who 

bring 
Marvellous lovely webs pictured with gold, 
Waved blades of gilded steel, wrought bowls 

in brass. 
Cut ivories, spice, simples, and unknown 

birds, 
Treasures of far-off peoples ; but they bring 
That which doth beggar these, for He is seen ! 
Thy Lord, — our Lord, — the hope of all the 

land — 
Sidd^rtha ! they have seen him face to face, 
Yea, and have worshipped him with knees and 

brows. 
And offered offerings ; for he is become 
All which was shown, a teacher of the wise, 
World-honored, holy, wonderful ; a Buddh 
Who doth deliver men and save all flesh 



i8o ^be Xigbt ot Bsia. 

By sweetest speech and pity vast as Heaven : 
And, lo ! he journeyeth hither these do say.'* 

Then — while the glad blood bounded in hel 

veins 
As Gunga leaps when first the mountain 

snows 
Melt at her springs — uprose Yasodhara 
And clapped her palms, and laughed, with 

brimming tears 
Beading her lashes. " Oh ! call quick," she 

cried: 
" These merchants to my purdah, for mine 

ears 
Thirst like parched throats to drink their 

blessed news. 
Go bring them in, — but if their tale be true, 
Say I will fill their girdles with much gold, 
With gems that Kings shall envy : come ye 

too. 
My girls, for ye shall have guerdon of this 
If there be gifts to speak my grateful heart.'' 

So went those merchants to the Pleasure 
House, 
Full softly pacing through its golden ways 
With naked feet, amid the peering maids, 



OBooft tbe Seventb* i8i 

Much wondering at the glories of the Court. 
Whom, when they came without the purdah's 

folds, 
A voice, tender and eager, filled and charmed 
With trembling music, saying, " Ye are come 
From far, fair Sirs ! and ye have seen my 

Lord — 
Yea, worshipped — for he is become a Buddh, 
World-honored, holy, and delivers men, 
And journeyeth hither. Speak! for, if this 

be. 
Friends are ye of my House, welcome and 

dear." 

Then answer made Tripusha, "We have 

seen 
That sacred Master, Princess ! we have bowed 
Before his feet ; for who was lost a Prince 
Is found a greater than the King of kings. 
Under the Bodhi tree by Phalgu's bank 
That which shall save the world hath late been 

wrought 
By him — the Friend of all, the Prince of all — 
Thine most. High Lady ! from whose tears 

men win 
The comfort of this Word the Master speaks. 
Lo 1 he is well, as one beyond all ills, 



i82 XLbe aLfabt ot Bsla. 

UpIiCted as a god from earthly woes, 
Shining with risen Truth, golden and clear. 
Moreover as he entereth town by town, 
Preaching those noble ways which lead to 

peace, 
The hearts of men follow his path as leaves 
Troop to wind or sheep draw after one 
Who knows the pastures. We ourselves have 

heard 
By Gaya in the green Tchirnika grove 
Those wondrous lips and done them reverence : 
He Cometh hither ere the first rains fall." 

Thus spake he, and Yasodhara, for joy. 
Scarce mastered breath to answer, " Be it well 
Now and at all times with ye, worthy friends ! 
Who bring good tidings ; but of this great thing 
Wist ye how it befell ? " 

Then Bhalluk told 
Such as the people of tlie valleys knew 
Of that dread night of conflict, when the air 
Darkened with fiendish shadows, and the earth 
Quaked, and the waters swelled with Mara's 

wrath. 
Also how gloriously that morning broke 
Radiant with rising hopes for man, and how 
The Lord was found rejoicing 'neath his Trea 



JBook tbe Seventh 183 

But many days the burden of release — 
To be escaped beyond all storms of doubt, 
Safe on Truth's shore — lay, spake he, on that 

heart 
A golden load ; for how shall men — Buddh 

mused — 
Who love their sins and cleave to cheats of 

sense, 
And drink of error from a thousand springs — 
Having no mind to see, nor strength to break 
The fleshly snare which binds them — how 

should such 
Receive the Twelve Nidanas and the Law 
Redeeming all, yet strange to profit by. 
As the caged bird oft shuns its opened door? 
So had we missed the helpful victory 
If, in this earth without a refuge, Buddh 
Winning the way, had deemed it all too hard 
For mortal feet, and passed, none following 

him. 
Yet pondered the compassion of our Lord, 
But in that hour there range a voice as sharp 
As cry of travail, so as if the earth 
Moaned in birth-throe " Nasyami aham hhH 
Nasyati Ibka /" Surely I am lost, 
I AND MY CREATURES : then a pause, and next 
A pleading sigh borne on the western wind. 



i84 ^be Xfgbt of 2l6la. 

*^ SruyatAm dharma Bhagwai /" Oh, Su^ 

PREME ! 

Let thy great Law be uttered ! Where 

upon 
The Master cast his vision forth on flesh, 
Saw who should hear and who must wait to 

hear, 
As the keen Sun gilding the lotus-lakes 
Seeth which buds will open to his beams 
And which are not yet risen from their roots ; 
Then spake, divinely smiling, " Yea ! I preach I 
Whoso will listen let him learn the Law." 

Afterwards passed he, said they, by the hills 
Unto Benares, where he taught the Five, 
Showing how birth and death should be de- 
stroyed. 
And how man hath no fate except past deeds, 
No Hell but what he makes, no Heaven too 
high [dued. 

For those to reach whose passions sleep sub- 
This was the fifteenth day of Vaishya 
Mid-afternoon and that night was full moon. 

But, of the Rishis, first Kaundinya 
Owned the Four Truths and entered on the 
Paths; 



:(i3ooft tbe Seventb. 185 

And after him Bhadraka, Asvajit, 

Basava, Mahanama ; also there 

Within the Deer-park, at the feet of Buddh, 

Vasad the Prince with nobles fifty-four 

Hearing the blessed word our Master spake 

Worshipped and followed ; for there sprang 

up peace 
And knowledge of a new time come for men 
In all who heard, as spring the flowers and 

grass 
When water sparkles through a sandy plain. 

These sixty — said they — did our Lord send 

forth 
Made perfect in restraint and passion free. 
To teach the Way; but the World-honored 

turned 
South from the Deer-park and Isipatan 
To Yashti and King Bimbasara's realm, 
Where many days he taught; and after 

these 
King Bimbasara and his folk believed, 
Learning the law of love and ordered life. 
Also he gave the Master, of free gift, — 
Pouring forth water on the hands of Buddh— 
The Bamboo-Garden, named Weluvana, 



i86 ^be %iQbt of Bsia. 

Wherein are streams and caves and lovely 

glades ; 
And the King set a stone there, carved with 

this :— 

VS dharma hetuppabhawd 

Yesan hetun Tathdgatb ; 
Aha yesan cha yo nirodhb 
Ewan wadi Maha samano 

" What life's course and cause sustain 
These Tathagato made plain ; 
What delivers from life's woe 
That our Lord hath made us know." 

And, in that Garden — said they — there was 

held 
A high Assembly, where the Teacher spake 
Wisdom and power, winning all souls which 

heard, 
So that nine hundred took the yellow robe — 
Such as the Master wears, — and spread his 

Law; 
And this the gatha was wherewith he closed >— 

Sabba pdpassa akaranan ; 
Kusalassa upassampadd : 
Sa chitta pariyodapanan ; 
Etan Budhdnusdsanan. 



JSook t'oc Seventi). 187 

" Evil swells the debts to pay, 
Good delivers and acquits ; 
Shun evil, follow good ; hold sway 
Over thyself. This is the Way." 



Whom, when they ended, speaking so of him, 
With gifts, and thanks which made the jewels 

dull. 
The Princess recompensed. "But by what 

road 
Wendeth my Lord ? " she asked : the mer« 

chants said, 

" Yojans threescore stretch from the city-walla 
To Rajagriha, whence the easy path 
Passeth by Sona hither and the hills. 
Our oxen, treading eight slow koss a day, 
Came in one moon." 

Then the King hearing word, 
Sent nobles of the Court — well-mounted 

lords — 
Nine separate messengers, each embassy 
Bidden to say, " The King Suddhodana — 
Nearer the pyre by seven long years of lack, 
Wherethrough he hath not ceased to seek iot 

thee — 



i88 ^be Xfgbt ot 2lsia. 

Prays of his son to come unto his own, 

The Throne and people of this longing Realm, 

Lest he shall die and see thy face no more.'* 

Also nine horsemen sent Yasodhara 

Bidden to say, " The Princess of thy House— 

Rahula's mother — craves to see thy face 

As the night-blowing moon-flower's swelling 

heart 
Pines for the moon, as pale asoka-buds 
Wait for a woman's foot : if thou hast found 
More than was lost, she prays her part in this, 
Rahula's part, but most of all thyself." 
So sped the Sakya Lords, but it befell 
That each one, with the message in his mouth 
Entered the Bamboo-Garden in that hour 
When Buddha taught his Law ; and — hearing 

— each 
Forgot to speak, lost thought of King and 

quest. 
Of the sad Princess even ; only gazed 
Eye-rapt upon the Master ; only hung 
Heart-caught upon the speech, compassionate, 
Commanding, perfect, pure, enlightening all, 
Poured from those sacred lips. Look ! like a 

bee 
Winged for the hive, who sees the mograt 

spread 



JBooh tbc Seventb. 189 

And scents their utter sweetness on the air, 
If he be honey-filled, it matters not ; 
If night be nigh, or rain, he will not heed; 
Needs must he light on those delicious blooms 
And drain their nectar ; so these messengers 
One with another, hearing Buddha's words, 
Let go the purpose of their speed, and mixed, 
Heedless of all, amid the Master's train. 
Wherefore the King bade that Udayi go^ 
Chiefest in all the Court, and faithfuUest, 
Siddartha's playmate in the happier days — 
Who, as he drew anear the garden, plucked 
Blown tufts of tree-wool from the grove and 

sealed 
The entrance of his hearing ; thus he came 
Safe through the lofty peril of the place 
And told the message of the King, and hers. 

Then meekly bowed his head and spake our 
Lord 
Before the people, *' Surely I shall go ! 
It is my duty as it was my will ; 
Let no man miss to render reverence 
To those who lend him life, whereby come 

means 
To live and die no more, but safe attain 
Blissful Nirvana, if ye keep the Law, 



tgo ^be %iQht ot Bsla. 

Purging past wrongs and adding nought 

thereto, 
Complete in love and lovely charities. 
Let the King know and let the Princess hear 
I take the way forthwith." This told, the folk 
Of white Kapilavastu and its fields 
Made ready for the entrance of their Prince. 
At the south gate a bright pavilion rose 
With flower- wreathed pillars and the walls of 

silk 
Wrought on their red and green with woven 

gold. 
Also the roads were laid with scented boughs 
Of neem and mango, and full mussuks shed 
Sandal and jasmine on the dust, and flags 
Fluttered ; and on the day when he should 

come 
It was ordained how many elephants — 
With silver howdahs and their tusks gold- 
tipped — 
Should wait beyond the ford, and where the 

drums 
Should boom " Siddartha cometh ! " where the 

lords 
Should light and worship, and the dancing-girls 
Where they should strew their flowers with 

dance and song, 



:©ooft tbe Sevcntb. 191 

So that the steed he rode might tramp knee* 

deep 
In rose and balsam, and the ways be fair ; 
While the town rang with music and high joy. 
This was ordained, and all men's ears were 

pricked 
Dawn after dawn to catch the first drum's 

beat 
Announcing, ** Now he cometh I " 

But it fell- 
Eager to be before — Yasodhara 
Rode in her litter to the city-walls 
Where soared the bright pavilion. All around 
A beauteous garden smiled — Nigrodha 

named — 
Shaded with bel-trees and the green-plumed 

dates, 
New-trimmed and gay with winding walks and 

banks 
Of fruits and flowers ; for the southern road 
Skirted its lawns, on this hand leaf and 

bloom. 
On that the suburb-huts where base-boms 

dwelt 
Outside the gates, a patient folk and poor, 
Whose touch for Kshatriya and priest ol 

Brahm 



xg2 Zbc Xlgbt of B6fa. 

Were sore defilement. Yet those, too, were 

quick 
With expectation, rising ere the dawn 
To peer along the road, to climb the trees 
At far-off trumpet of some elephant. 
Or stir of temple-drum ; and when none came, 
Busied with lowly chares to please the Prince ; 
Sweeping their door-stones, setting forth theit 

flags, 
Stringing the fluted fig-leaves into chains. 
New furbishing the Lingam, decking new 
Yesterday's faded arch of boughs, but aye 
Questioning wayfarers if any noise 
Be on the road of great Siddartha. These 
The Princess marked with lovely languid eyes, 
Watching, as they, the southward plain, and 

bent 
Like them to listen if the passers gave 
News of the path. So fell it she beheld 
One slow approaching with his head close 

shorn, 
A yellow cloth over his shoulder cast. 
Girt as the hermits are, and in his hand 
An earthen bowl, shaped melonwise, the which 
Meekly at each hut-door he held a space, 
Taking the granted dole with gentle thanks 
And all as gently passing where none gave. 



JSooft tbe Scvcntb. ^9^ 

Two followed him wearing the yellow robe, 
But he who bore the bowl so lordly seemed, 
So reverend, and with such a passage moved^ 
With so commanding presence filled the air, 
With such sweet eyes of holiness smote all, 
That, as they reached him alms the givers 

gazed 
Awestruck upon his face, and some bent down 
In worship, and some ran to fetch fresh gifts 
Grieved to be poor; till slowly, group by 

group. 
Children and men and women drew behind 
Into his steps, whispering with covered lips, 
•* Who is he ? who ? when looked a Rishi 

thus? 
But as he came, with quiet footfall on 
Nigh the pavilion, lo ! the silken door 
Lifted, and, all unveiled, Yasodhara 
Stood in his path crying, " Siddartha ! Lord ! " 
With wide eyes streaming and with close- 
clasped hands, 
Then sobbing fell upon his feet, ana lay. 

Afterwards, when this weeping lady passed 
Into the Noble Paths, and one had prayed 
Answer from Buddha wherefore — being vowed 
Quit of all mortal passion and the touch, 
13 



,»54 ^^^ %iQbt ot Bsia 

Flower-soft and conquering, of a woman's 

hands — 
He suffered such embrace, the Master said : 
" The greater beareth with the lesser love 
So it may raise it unto easier heights. 
Take heed that no man, being 'scaped from 

bonds, 
Vexeth bound souls with boasts of liberty. 
Free are ye rather that your freedom spread 
By patient winning and sweet wisdom's skill. 
Three eras of long toil bring Bodhisits — 
Who will be guides and help this darkling 

world — 
Unto deliverance, and the first is nam^d 
Of deep ' Resolve,' the second of * Attempt,* 
The third of * Nomination.* Lo 1 I lived 
In era of Resolve, desiring good, 
Searching for wisdom, but mine eyes were 

sealed. 
Count the grey seeds on yonder castor-clump^ 
So many rains it is since I was Ram, 
A merchant of the coast which looketh south 
To Lanka and the hiding-place of pearls. 
Also in that far time Yasodhara 
Dwelt with me in our village by the sea, 
Tender as now, and Lukshmi was her name. 
And I remember how I journeyed thence 



:iBooft tbe Seventb* 195 

Seeking our gain, for poor the household was 
And lowly. Not the less with wistful tears 
She prayed me that I should not part, nor 

tempt 
Perils by land and water. * How could love 
Leave what it loved ? ' she wailed ; yet, ventur- 
ing, I 
Passed to the Straits, and after storm and toil 
And deadly strife with creatures of the deep, 
And woes beneath the midnight and the noon, 
Searching the wave I won therefrom a pearl 
Moonlike and glorious, such as Kings might 

buy 
Emptying their treasury. Then came I glad 
Unto mine hills, but over all that land 
Famine spread sore ; ill was I stead to live 
In journey home, and hardly reached my 

door — 
Aching for food — with that white wealth of 

the sea 
Tied in my girdle. Yet no food was there ; 
And on the threshold she for whom I toiled — 
More than myself — lay with her speechless 

lips 
Nigh unto death for one small gift of grain. 
Then cried I, * If there be who hath of grain. 
Here is a kingdona's ransom for one life : 



196 ^be Xfabt ot B0ia* 

Give Lukshmi bread and take my moonlight 

pearl/ 
Whereat one brought the last of all his hoard, 
Millet — three seers — and clutched the beau- 
teous thing 
But Lukshmi lived and sighed with gathered 

life, 
* Lo I thou didst love indeed I ' I spent my 

pearl 
Well in that life to comfort heart and mind 
Else quite uncomforted, but these pure pearls, 
My last large gain, won from a deeper wave— > 
The Twelve Nidanas and the Law of Good— 
Cannot be spent, nor dimmed, and must fulfil 
Their perfect beauty being freeliest given. 
For like as is to Meru yonder hill 
Heaped by the little ants, and like as dew 
Dropped in the footmark of a bounding roe 
Unto the shoreless seas, so was that gift 
Unto my present giving ; and so love — 
Vaster in being free from toils of sense — 
Was wisest stooping to the weaker heart ; 
And so the feet of sweet Yasodhara 
Passed into peace and bliss, being softly led. '* 

But when the King heard how Siddartha 
came 



JSooft tbe Seventh* 197 

Shorn, with the mendicant's sad-colored cloth, 
And stretching out a bowl to gather orts 
From base-boms' leavings, wrathful sorrow 

drove 
Love from his heart Thrice on the ground 

he spat. 
Plucked at his silvered beard, and strode 

straight forth 
Lackeyed by trembling lords. Frowning he 

clomb 
Upon his war-horse, drove the spurs, and 

dashed, 
Angered, though wondering streets and lanes 

of folk. 
Scarce finding breath to say, "The King I 

bow down ! " 
Ere the loud cavalcade had clattered by : 
Which — at the turning by the Temple-wall 
Where the south gate was seen — encountered 

full 
A mighty crowd ; to every edge of it 
Poured fast more people, till the roads were lost, 
Blotted by that huge company which thronged 
And grew, close following him whose look 

serene 
Met the old King's. Nor lived the father's 

wrath 



198 ^bc Xlgbt ot Bsta. 

Longer than while the gentle eyes of Buddh 
Lingered in worship on his troubled brows, 
Then downcast sank, with his true knee, to 

earth 
In pioud humility. So dear it seemed 
To see the Prince, to know him whole, to 

mark 
That glory greater than of earthly state 
Crowning his head, that majesty which 

brought 
All men, so awed and silent in his steps. 
Nathless the King broke forth, " Ends it in 

this 
That great Siddartha steals into his realm, 
Wrapped in a clout, shorn, sandalled, craving 

food 
Of low-borns, he whose life was as a God's ? 
My son ! heir of this spacious power, and heir 
Of Kings who did but clap their palms to 

have 
What earth could give or eager service bring? 
Thou shouldst have come apparelled in thy 

rank, 
With shining spears and tramp of horse and 

foot. 
Lo ! all my soldiers camped upon the road, 
And all my city waited at the gates ; 



asooft tljc Sevcntb* 199 

Where hast thou sojourned through these evil 

years 
Whilst thy crowned father mourned ? and she^ 

too, there 
Lived as the widows use, foregoing joys ; 
Never once hearing sound of song or string. 
Nor wearing once the festal robe, till now 
When in her cloth of gold she welcomes home 
A beggar spouse in yellow remnants clad. 
Son I why is this ? " 

" My Father I " came reply, 
" It is the custom of my race." 

" Thy race," 
Answered the King "counteth a hundred 

thrones 
From Maha Samm^t, but no deed like this." 

" Not of a mortal line," the Master said, 
" I spake, but of descent invisible, 
The Buddhas who have been and who shall 

be: 
Of these am I, and what they did I do, 
And this which now befalls so fell before 
That at his gate a King in warrior-mail 
Should meet his son, a Prince in hermit-weeds ; 
And that, by love and self-control, being 

more 



200 Cbe Xigbt of Bsia. 

Than mightiest Kings in all their puissance, 
The appointed Helper of the Worlds should 

bow — 
As now do I — and with all lowly love 
Proffer, where it is owed for tender debts, 
The first-fruits of the treasure he hath 

brought ; 
Which now I proffer." 

Then the King amazed 
Inquired " What treasure ? " and the Teacher 

took 
Meekly the royal palm, and while they paced 
Through worshipping streets — the Princess 

and the King 
On either side — he told the things which 

make 
For peace and pureness, these Four noble 

Truths 
Which hold all wisdom as shores shut the 

seas 
Those eight right rules whereby who will may 

walk — 
Monarch or slave — upon the perfect Path 
That hate its Stages Four and Precepts Eight, 
Whereby whoso will live — mighty or mean 
Wise or unlearned, man, woman, young oi 

old— 



JBooli tbc Scventb. aot 

Shall soon or late break from the wheels of 

life 
Attaining blest Nirvana. So they came 
Into the Palace-porch, Suddhodana 
With brows unknit drinking the mighty words, 
And in his own hand carrying Buddha's bowl, 
Whilst a new light brightened the lovely eyes 
Of sweet Yasodhara and sunned her tears, 
And that night entered they the Way ol 

Peace. 



202 Zbc %iQbt ot Baia. 



§00fe ikt m0it%. 



A BROAD mead spreads by swift Kohina*s 

bank 
At Nagara ; five days shall bring a man 
In ox-wain thither from Benares' shrines 
Eastward and northward journeyed. The 

horns 
Of white Himala look upon the place, 
Which all the year is glad with blooms and girt 
By groves made green from that bright stream- 
let's wave. 
Soft are its slopes and cool its fragrant shades, 
And holy all the spirit of the spot 
Unto this time : the breath of eve comes 

hushed 
Over the tangled thickets, and high heaps 
Of carved red stones cloven by root and stem 
Of creeping fig, and clad with waving veil 
Of leaf and grass. The still snake glistens 

forth 
From crumbled work of lacand cedar-beams 
To coil his folds there on deep-graven slabs ; 



asoolft tbe iBiQbtb, 203 

The lizard dwells and darts o'er painted 

floors 
Where Kings have paced ; the grey fox litters 

safe 
Under the broken thrones ; only the peaks, 
And stream, and sloping lawns, and gentle air 
Abide unchanged. All else, like all fair 

shows 
Of life, are fled — for this is where it stood, 
The city of Suddhadana, the hill 
Whereon, upon an eve of gold and blue 
At sinking sun Lord Buddha set himself 
To teach the Law in hearing of his own. 

Lo ! ye shall read it in the Sacred Books 
How, being met in that glad pleasaunce- 

place — 
A garden in old days with hanging walks. 
Fountains, and tanks, and rose-banked ter- 
races 
Girdled by gay pavilions and the sweep 
Of stately palace-fronts — the Master sate 
Eminent, worshipped, all the earnest throng 
Catching the opening of his lips to learn 
The wisdom which hath made our Asia mild ; 
Whereto four hundred crores of living souls 
Witness this day. Upon the King's right hand 



204 ^be Xiabt of Baia. 

He sate, and round were ranged the SAkjpi 

A Lords 

V Ananda, Devadatta — all the Court. 

! Behind stood Seriyut and Mugallan, chiefs 

• Of the calm brethren in the yellow garb, 
A goodly company. Between his knees 
Rahula smiled with wondering childish eyes 
Bent on the awful face, while at his feet 
Sate sweet Yasodhara, her heartaches gone, 
Foreseeing that fair love which doth not feed 
On fleeting sense, that life which knows no 

age. 
That blessed last of deaths when Death is 

dead. 
His victory and hers. Wherefore she laid 
Her hand upon his hands, folding around 
Her silver shoulder-cloth his yellow robe, 
Nearest in all the world to him whose words 
The Three Worlds waited for. I cannot tell 
A small part of the splendid lore which broke 
From Buddha's lips : I am a late-come scribe 
Who love the Master and his love of men, 
And tell this legend, knowing he was wise, 
But have not wit to speak beyond the books ; 
And time hath blurred their script and ai> 

cient sense, 
Which once was new and mighty, moving alL 



JSoofi tbe jeiQbtb* 205 

A little of that large discourse I know 
Which Buddha spake on the soft Indian eve. 
Also I know it writ that they who heard 
Were more — lakhs more — crores more — than 

could be seen, 
For all the Devas and the Dead thronged 

there, 
Till Heaven was emptied to the seventh zone 
And uttermost dark Hells opened their bars ; 
Also the daylight lingered past its time 
In rose-leaf radiance on the watching peaks, 
So that it seemed Night listened in the glens 
And Noon upon the mountains ; yea ! they 

write. 
The evening stood between them like some 

maid 
Celestial, love-struck, rapt ; the smooth-rolled 

clouds 
Her braided hair; the studded stars the 

pearls 
And diamonds of her coronal ; the moon 
Her forehead-jewel, and the deepening dark 
Her woven garments. 'Twas her close-held 

breath 
Which came in scented sighs across the lawns 
While our Lord taught, and, while he taught^ 

who heard — 



2o6 ^be Xfflbt of BBfa. 

Though he were stranger in the land, or slavey 
High caste or low, come of the Aryan blood, 
Or Mlech or Jungle-dweller — seemed to heat 
What tongue his fellow talked. Nay, outside 

those 
Who crowded by the river, great and smail, 
The birds and beasts and creeping things— 

'tis writ — 
Had sense of Buddha's vast embracing love 
And took the promise of his piteous speech ; 
So that their lives — prisoned in shape of ape. 
Tiger, or deer, shagged bear, jackal, or wolf, 
Foul-feeding kite, pearled dove, or peacock 

gemmed. 
Squat toad, or speckled serpent, lizard, bat ; 
Yea, or of fish fanning the river-waves — 
Touched meekly at the skirts of brotherhood 
With man who hath less innocence than these ; 
And in mute gladness knew their bondage 

broke 
Whilst Buddha spake these things before the 

King:— 



Om, amitaya ! measure not with words 
Th' Immeasurable : nor sink the string of 
thought 



JBooft tbc Bi^btb. 207 

Into the Fathomless. Who asks doth err, 
Who answers, errs. Say nought ! 

The Books teach Darkness was, at first of all, 
And Brahm, sole meditating in that Night : 

Look not for Brahm and the Beginning there ! 
Nor him nor any light. 

Shall any gazer see with mortal eyes, 
Or any searcher know by mortal mind, 

Veil after veil will lift — but there must be 
Veil upon veil behind. 

Stars sweep and question not. This is 
enough 
That life and death and joy and woe abide ; 
And cause and sequence, and the course of 
time. 
And Being's ceaseless tide, 

Which, ever-changing, runs, linked like a 
river 
By ripples following ripples, fast, or slow — 
The same yet not the same — ^from far-off 
fountain 
To where its waters flow 

Into the seas. These, steaming to the Sun, 
Give the lost wavelets back in cloudy fleece 



2o8 Zbe %iQbt ot Bsla. 

To trickle down the hills, and glide again ; 
Having no pause or peace. 

This is enough to know, the phantasms are ; 

The Heavens, Earths, Worlds, and changef 
changing them 
A mighty whirling wheel of strife and stress 

Which none can stay or stem. 

Pray not! the Darkness will not brighten I 
Ask 
Nought from the Silence, for it cannot 
speak I 
Vex not your mournful minds with pious 
pains ! 
Ah ! Brothers, Sisters ! seek 

Nought from the helpless gods by gift and 
hymn, 
Nor bribe with blood, nor feed with fruit 
and cakes ; 
Within yourselves deliverance must be sought ; 
Each man his prison makes. 

Each hath such lordship as the loftiest ones ; 

Nay, for with Powers above, around, below, 
As with all flesh and whatsoever lives, 

Act maketh joy and woe. 



JSoolt tbe ;eidbtb. 209 

What hath been bringeth what shall be, and is, 
Worse — better — last for first and first for 
last ; 

The Angels in the Heavens of Gladness reap 
Fruits of a holy past. 

The devils in the underworlds wear out 

Deeds that were wicked in an age gone by. 

Nothing endures ; fair virtues waste with time, 
Foul sins grow purged thereby. 

Who toiled a slave may come anew a Prince 
For gentle worthiness and merit won ; 

Who ruled a King may wander earth in rags 
For things done and undone. 

Higher than Indra's ye may lift your lot, 
And sink it lower than the worm or gnat ; 

The end of many myriad lives is this, 
The end of myriads that. 

Only, while turns this wheel invisible, 

No pause, no peace, no staying-place can be j 

Who mounts will fall, who falls may mount ; 
the spokes 
Go round unceasingly I 

« « • # • 



2IO ^bc ILfsbt of Bsia. 

If ye lay bound upon the wheel of change, 
And no way were of breaking from the chaii% 

The Heart of boundless Being is a curse, 
The Soul of Things fell Pain. 

Ye are not bound ! the Soul of Things is sweety 
The Heart of Being is celestial rest; 

Stronger than woe is will : that which was 
Good 
Doth pass to Better — Best. 

I, Buddh, who wept with all my brothers' tears. 
Whose heart was broken by a whole world's 
woe, 

Laugh and am glad, for there is Liberty*. 
Ho ! ye who suffer ! know 

Ye suffer from yourselves. None else compels, 
None other holds you that ye live and die, 

And whirl upon the wheel, and hug and kiss 
Its spokes of agony. 

Its tire of tears, its nave of nothingness. 

Behold, I show you Truth ! Lower than 
hell. 
Higher than Heaven, outside the utmost stars, 

Farther than Brahm doth dwell 



:iBooft tbe BfQbtb. 211 

Before beginning, and without an end, 
As space eternal and as surety sure, 

Is fixed a Power divine which moves to good, 
Only its laws endure. 

This is its touch upon the blossomed rose. 
The fashion of its hand shaped lotus-leaves; 

In dark soil and the silence of the seeds 
The robe of Spring it weaves ; 

That is its painting on the glorious clouds, 
And these its emeralds on the peacock's 
train ; 

It hath its stations in the stars ; its slaves 
In lightning, wind, and rain. 

Out of the dark it wrought the heart of man, 
Out of dull shells the pheasant's pencilled 
neck; 

Ever at toil, it brings to loveliness 
All ancient wrath and wreck. 

The grey eggs in the golden sun-bird's nest 
Its treasures are, the bees' six-sided cell 

Its honey-pot ; the ant wots of its ways, 
The white doves know them well. 

It spreadeth forth for flight the eagle's wings 
What time she beareth home her prey ; It 
sends 



812 ^be Xiabt of B0ia. 

The she-wolf to her cubs ; for unloved things 
It findeth food and friends. 

It is not marred nor stayed in any use, 

All liketh it ; the sweet white milk it brings 

To mothers' breasts ; it brings the white drops, 
too, 
Wherewith the young snake stings. 

The ordered music of the marching orbs 
It makes in viewless canopy of sky ; 

In deep abyss of earth it hides up gold, 
Sards, sapphires, lazuli. 

Ever and ever bringing secrets forth, 
It sitteth in the green of forest-glades 

Nursing strange seedlings at the cedar's root, 
Devising leaves, blooms, blades. 

It slayeth and it saveth, nowise moved 
Except unto th working out of doom ; 

Its threads are Love and Life ; and Death 
and Pain 
The shuttles of its loom. 

It maketh and unmaketh, mending all ; 

What it hath wrought is better than hath 
been ; 
Slow grows the splendid pattern that it plans 

Its wistful hands between. 



asooft tbc iBiQbtb. 213 

This is its work upon the things ye see, 

The unseen things are more ; men's hearts 
and minds, 
The thoughts of peoples and their ways and 
wills, 
Those, too, the great Law binds. 

Unseen it helpeth ye with faithful hands, 
Unheard it speaketh stronger than the storm. 

Pity and Love are man's because long stress 
Moulded blind mass to form. 

It will not be contemned of any one ; 

Who thwarts it loses, and who serves it 
gains ; 
The hidden good it pays with peace and bliss. 

The hidden ill with pains. 

It seeth everywhere and marketh all ; 

Do right — itrecompenseth ! do one wrongs 
The equal retribution must be made, 

Though D HARM A tarry long. 

It knows not wrath nor pardon ; utter-true 
Its measures mete, its faultless balance 
weighs ; 

Times are as nought, to-morrow it will judge, 
Or after many days. 



214 ^be %iQbt of Bsia. 

By this the slayer's knife did stab himself ; 

The unjust judge hath lost his own defender ^ 
The false tongue dooms its lie ; the creepimg 
thief 

And spoiler rob, to render. 

Such is the Law which moves to righteousness, 
Which none at last can turn aside or stay ; 

The heart of it is Love, the end of it 

Is Peace and Consummation sweet. Obey! 



The Books say well, my Brothers ! each man*s 
life 
The outcome of his former living is ; 
The bygone wrongs bring forth sorrows and 
woes 
The bygone right breeds bliss. 

That which ye sow ye reap. See yonder 
fields ! 
The sesamum was sesamum, the corn 
Was corn. The Silence and the Darkness 
knew ! 
So is a man's fate born. 

He cometh, reaper of the things he sowed, 
Sesamum, corn, so much cast in past birth j 



OQSooft tbe Bigbtb. 215 

And so much weed and poison-stuff, which mat 
Him and the aching earth. 

If he shall labor rightly, rooting these, 

And planting wholesome seedlings where 
they grew, 

Fruitful and fair and clean the ground shall be. 
And rich the harvest due. 

If he who liveth, learning whence woe springs, 
Endureth patiently, striving to pay 

His utmost debt for ancient evils done 
In Love and Truth alway ; 

If making none to lack, he thoroughly purge 
The lie and lust of self forth from his blood ; 

Suffering all meekly, rendering for offence 
Nothing but grace and good : 

If he shall day by day dwell merciful, 

Holy and just and kind and true ; and rend 

Desire from where it clings with bleeding 
roots, 
Till love of life have end i 

He— dying — ^leaveth as the sum of him 
A life-count closed, whose ills are dead and 
quit. 



2i6 tTbe Xtsbt ot Bsfa, 

Whose good is quick and mighty, far and near, 
So that fruits follow it. 

No need hath such to live as ye name life j 
That which began in him when he began 

Is finished : he hath wrought the purposes 
through 
Of what did make him Man. 

Never shall yearnings torture him, nor sins 
Stain him, nor ache of earthly joys and woes 

Invade his safe eternal peace ; nor deaths 
And lives recur. He goes 

Unto Nirvana. He is one with Life 
Yet lives not. He is blest, ceasing to be. 

Om, mani padme, om ! the Dewdrop slips 
Into the shining sea ! 



This is the doctrine of the Karma. Learn ! 

Only when all the dross of sin is quit, 
Only when life dies like a white flame spent 

Death dies along with it. 

Bay not *-I am," "I was," or " I shall be," 
Think not ye pass from house to house of 
flesh 



JSooft tbe Bigbtb. 2x7 

lAVe travellers who remember and forget, 
Ill-lodged or well-lodged. Fresh 

• 

Issues upon the Universe that sum 
Which is the lattermost of lives. It makes 

Its habitation as the worm spins silk 
And dwells therein. It takes 

Function and substance as the snake's egg 
hatched 
Takes scale and fang; as feathered reed- 
seeds fly 
0*er rock and loam and sand, until they find 
Their marsh and multiply. 

Also it issues forth to help or hurt. 

When Death the bitter murderer doth smite. 
Red roams the unpurged fragment of him, 
driven 

On wings of plague and blight. 

But when the mild and just die, sweet airs 
breathe 

The world grows richer, as if desert-stream 
Should sink away to sparkle up again 

Purer, with broader gleam. 

So merit won winneth the happier age 
Which by demerit halteth short of end ; 



2i8 ^be Xi0Dt of B6fa. 

Yet must this Law of Love reign King of all 
Before the Kalpas end. 

What lets ?— Brothers ! the Darkness lets ! 
which breeds 
Ignorance, mazed whereby ye take these 
shows 
For true, and thirst to have, and, having, cling 
To lusts which work you woes. 

Ye that will tread the Middle Road, whose 
course 
Bright Reason traces and soft Quiet 
smoothes ; 
Ye who will take the high Nirvana-way 
List the Four Noble Truths. 

The First Truth is of Sorrow. Be not 
mocked ! 

Life which ye prize is long-drawn agony ; 
Only its pains abide ; its pleasures are 

As birds which light and fly. 

Ache of the birth, ache of the helpless days, 
Ache of hot youth and ache of manhood*s 
prime ; 

Ache of the chill grey years and choking death, 
These fill your piteous time. 



3Boo?i tbe Bigbtb* 219 

Sweet is fond Love, but funeral-flames must 
kiss 
The breasts which pillow and the lips which 
cling ; 
Gallant is warlike Might, but vultures pick 
The joints of chief and King. 

Beauteous is Earth, but all its forest-broods 
Plot mutual slaughter, hungering to live ; 

Of sapphire are the skies, but when men cry 
Famished, no drops they give. 

Ask of the sick, the mourners, ask of him 
Who tottereth on his staff, lone and forlorn, 

** Liketh thee life ? " — these say the babe is 
wise 
That weepeth, being bom. 

The Second Truth is Sorrow's Cause, What 
grief 

Springs of itself and springs not of Desire ? 
Senses and things perceived mingle and light 

Passion's quick spark of fire : 

So flameth Trishna, lust and thirst of things. 
Eager ye cleave to shadows, dote on dreams \ 

A false Self in the midst ye plant, and make 
A world around which seems ; 



t2o TTbe Xigbt ot Bdia. 

Blind to the height beyond, deaf to the sound 
Of sweet airs breathed from far past Indra't 

sky; 
Dumb to the summons of the true life kept 
For him who false puts by. 

So grow the strifes and lusts which make 
earth's war, tears ; 

So grieve poor cheated hearts and flow salt 
So wax the passions, envies, angers, hates ; 

So years chase blood-stained years 

With wild red feet. So, where the grain should 
grow. 
Spreads the biran-weed with its evil root 
And poisonous blossoms ; hardly good seeds 
find 
Soil where to fall and shoot ; 

And drugged with poisonous drink the soul 
departs, returns ; 

And fierce with thirst to drink Karma 
Sense-struck again the sodden self begins, 

And new deceits it earns. 

The Third is Sorrow's Ceasing. This ii 
peace 
To conquer love of self and lust of life. 



JSooft tbe J6tgbtb. 221 

To tear deep-rooted passion from the breast^ 

To still the inward strife ; 

For love to clasp Eternal Beauty close ; 

For glory to be Lord of self, for pleasure 
To live beyond the gods; for countless 
wealth 

To lay up lasting treasure 

Of perfect service rendered, duties done 

In charity, soft speech, and stainless days : 
These riches shall not fade away in life, 

Nor any death dispraise. 

Then Sorrow ends, for Life and Death have 
ceased ; 
How should lamps flicker when their oil is 
spent ? 
The old sad count is clear, the new is clean ; 
Thus hath a man content. 



The Fourth Truth is The Way, It openeth 
wide, 

Plain for all feet to tread, easy and near, 
The Noble Eightfold Path ; it goeth straight 

To peace and refuge. Hear I 



222 ^be %iQbt ot 2l6fa. 

Manifold tracks lead to yon sister-peaks 
Around whose snows the gilded clouds are 
curled ; 

By steep or gentle slopes the climber comes 
Where breaks that other world. 

Strong limbs may dare the rugged road which 
storms, 
Soaring and perilous, the mountain's breast ; 
The weak must wind from slower ledge to 
ledge 
With many a place of rest. 

So is the Eightfold Path which brings to 
peace ; 

By lower or by upper heights it goes. 
The firm soul hastes, the feeble tarries. All 

Will reach the sunlit snows. 

The First good Level is Right Doctrine. Walk 
In fear of Dharma, shunning all offence ; 

In heed of Karma, which doth make man's 
fate ; 
In lordship over sense. 

The Second is Right Purpose. Have good 
will 
To all that lives, letting unkindness die 



JBooft tbc BfgbtD. 223 

And greed and wrath ; so that your lives ba 
made 
Like soft airs passing by. 

The Third is Right Discourse. Govern the 
lips 

As they were palace-doors, the King within 
Tranquil and fair and courteous be all words 

Which from that presence win. 

The Fourth is Right Behavior. Let each act 
Assoil a fault or help a merit grow : 

Like threads of silver seen through crystal 
beads 
Let love through good deeds show. 

Four higher roadways be. Only those fe -t 
May tread th<=^m which have done with 
earthly things ; 

Right Purity^ Right Thought, Right Loneliness y 
Right Rapture. Spread no wings 

For sunward flight, thou soul with unplumed 
vans! 

Sweet is the lower air and safe, and known 
The homely levels : only strong ones leave 

The nest each makes his own. 



824 ^be Xf0bt ot Bsia. 

Dear is the love, I know, of Wife and Child ; 

Pleasant the friends and pastimes of youl 
years ; 
Fruitful of good Life's gentle charities ; 

False, though firm set, its fears. 

live — ye who must — such lives as live on 
these ; 
Make golden stairways of your weakness; 
rise 
By daily sojourn with those phantasies 
To lovelier verities. 

So shall ye pass to clearer heights and find 
Easier ascents and lighter loads of sins. 

And larger will to burst the bonds of sense, 
Entering the Path. Who wins 

To such commencement hath the First Stagt 
touched ; 
He knows the Noble Truths, the Eightfold 
Road; 
By few or many steps such shall attain 
Nirvana's blest abode. 

Who standeth at the Second Stage^ made free 
From doubts, delusions, and the inward 
strife, 



JBooft tbc J6iflbtb. 225 

Lord of all lusts, quit of the priests and books, 
Shall live but one more life. 

Vet onward lies the Third Stage : purged and 
pure 

Hath grown the stately spirit here, hathrisen 
To love all living things in perfect peace. 

His life at end, life's prison 

Is broken. Nay, there are who surely pass 
Living and visible to utmost goal 

By Fourth Sta^e of the Holy ones — the 
Buddhs— 
And they of stainless soul. 

Lo ! like fierce foes slain by some warrior, 
Ten sins along these Stages lie in dust, 

The Love of Self, False Faith, and Doubt are 
three. 
Two more, Hatred and Lust. 

Who of these Five is conqueror hath trod 
Three stages out of Four ; yet there abide 

The Love of Life on earth, Desire forHeaven» 
Self-Praise, Error, and Pride. 

As one who stands on yonder snowy horn 
Having nought o'er him but the boundless 
blue, 



226 trbc Xifibt of Bsia. 

So, these sins being slain, the man is come 

Nirvana's verge unto 

Him the Gods envy from their lower seats ; 

Him the Three Worlds in ruin should noC 
shake ; 
All life is lived for him, all deaths are dead ; 

Karma will no more make 

New house*'. Seeking nothing, he gains all ; 

Foregoing self, the Universe grows " I " : 
If any teach NIRVANA is to cease, 

Say unto such they lie. 

If any teach NIRVANA is to live, 

Say unto such they err ; not knowing this, 

Nor what light shines beyond their broken 
lamps. 
Nor lifeless, timeless bliss. 

Enter the Path ! There is no grief like Hate 1 
No pains like passions, no deceit like sense I 

Enter the Path ! far hath he gone whose foot 
Treads down one fond offence. 

Enter the Path 1 There spring the healing 
streams 
Quenching all thirst ! there bloom th' im- 
mortal flowers 



3Booft tbe Btgbtb. 237 

Carpeting all the way with joy ! there throng 
Swiftest and sweetest hours 1 



More is the treasure of the Law than gems ; 

Sweeter than comb its sweetness ; its do> 
lights 
Delightful past compare. Thereby to live 

Hear the Five Rules aright : — 

Kill not — for Pity's sake — and lest ye slay 
The meanest thing upon its upward way. 

Give freely and receive, but take from none 
By greed, or force or fraud, what is his own. 

Bear not false witness, slander not, nor lie; 
Truth is the speech of inward purity. 

Shun drugs and drinks which work the wit 

abuse ; 
Clear minds, clean bodies, need no Soma 

juice. 

Touch not thy neighbor's wife, neither commit 
Sins of the flesh unlawful and unfit. 



S28 ^be Xidbt of Bdfa. 

These words the Master spake of duties 

due 
To father, mother, children, fellows, friends ; 
Teaching how such as may not swiftly break 
The clinging chains of sense — whose feet are 

weak 
To tread the higher road — should order so 
This life of flesh that all their hither days 
Pass blameless in discharge of charities 
And first true footfalls in the Eightfold Path ; 
Living pure, reverent, patient, pitiful. 
Loving all things which live even as them- 
selves ; 
Because what falls for ill is fruit of ill 
Wrought in the past, and what falls well o^ 

good; 
And that by howsomuch the householder 
Purgeth himself of self and helps the world, 
By so much happier comes he to next stage, 
In so much bettered being. This he spake, 
As also long before, when our Lord walked 
By Rajagriha in the bamboo-grove : 
For on a dawn he walked there and beheld 
The householder Singala, newly bathed. 
Bowing himself with bare head to the earth, 
To Heaven, and all four quarters; while h« 
threw 



J5ooft tbc J6(0btb. 229 

Rice, red and white, from both hands. 

" Wherefore thus 
Bowest thou, Brother ? " said the Lord ; and he, 
" It is the way, Great Sir ! our fathers taught 
At every dawn, before the toil begins. 
To hold off evil from the sky above 
And earth beneath, and all the winds which 

blow." [rice, 

Then the World-honored spake : " Scatter not 
But offer loving thoughts and acts to all. 
To parents as the East where rises light ; 
To teachers as the South whence rich gifts 

come ; 
To wife and children as the West where gleam 
Colors of love and calm, and all days end ; 
To friends and kinsmen and all men as North, 
To humblest living things beneath, to Saints 
And Angels and the blessed Dead above : 
So shall all evil be shut off, and so 
The six main quarters will be safely kept." 

But to his own, them of the yellow robe — 
They who, as wakened eagles, soar with scorn 
From life's low vale, and wing towards the 

Sun- 
To these he taught the Ten Observances 
The Dasa-Stif and how a mendicant 



%^o Zbc Xfgbt of :a6fa. 

Must know the T/iree Doors and the Triph 

Thoughts ; 
The Sixfold States of Mind ; the Fivefold 

Powers ; 
The JEight High Gates of Purity ; the Modes 
Of Understanding ; Iddhi ; Upeksha ; 
The Five Great Meditations^ which are food 
Sweeter than Amrit for the holy soul ; 
The fhdna's and the Three Chief Refuges, 
Also he taught his own how they should 

dwell ; 
How live, free from the snares of love and 

wealth ; 
What eat and drink and carry — three plain 

cloths, — [bare — 

Yellow, of stitched stuff, worn with shoulder 
A girdle, almsbowl, strainer. Thus he laid 
The great foundations of our Sangha well, 
That noble Order of the Yellow Robe 
Which to this day standeth to help the World. 

So all that night he ^ake, teaching the 
Law : 
And on no eyes fell sleep — for they who heard 
Rejoiced with tireless joy. Also the King, 
When this was finished, rose upon his throne 
And with bared feet bowed low before his Son 



JBooft tbc mQbtb* 231 

Kissing his hem ; and said, " Take me, O 

Son! 
Lowest and least of all thy Company." 
And sweet Yasodhara, all happy now, — 
Cried " Give to Rahula — thou Blessed One 
The Treasure of the Kingdom of thy Word 
For his inheritance.'* Thus passed these 

Three 
Into the Path. 



Here endeth what I write 
Who love the Master for his love of us. 
A little knowing, little have I told 
Touching the Teacher and the Ways of Peace. 
Forty-five rains thereafter showed he those 
In many lands and many tongues and gave 
Our Asia light, that still is beautiful. 
Conquering the world with spirit of strong 

grace : * 

All which is written in the holy Books, 
And where he passed and what proud Em- 
perors 
Carved his sweet words upon the rocks and 

caves : 
And how — in fulness of the times — it fell 



232 ^be Xidbt ot Bdta. 

The Buddha died, the great Tath^gato, 
Even as a man 'mongst men, fulfilling all : 
And how a thousand thousand crores sinct 

then 
Have trod the Path which leads whither he 

went 
Unto Nirvana where the Silence lives. 



Ah ! Blessed Lord ! Oh, High Deliverer ! 
Forgive this feeble script, which doth 

THEE wrong 

Measuring with little wit thy lofty Love. 
Ah ! Lover ! Brother ! Guide ! Lamp of the 

Law! 
I take my refuge in thy name and thee 1 
I take m\ refuge in thy Law of Good 1 
I take my rEj uGE in thy Order ! OMI 
The Dew is on the lotus ! — rise, Great 

Sun! 
And lift my leaf and mix me with the 

WAVE. 

Cm mani padme hum, the Sunrise comes ! 
The Dewdrop slips into the shining Sea ! 



BY EDWIN ARNOLD. 

He who died at Azan sends 
This to comfort all his friends : 

Faithful friends ! It lies, I know^ 
Pale and white and cold as snow ; 
And ye say, "Abdallah 's deadl** 
Weeping at the feet and head, 
I can see your falling tears, 
I can hear your sighs and prayers; 
Yet I smile and whisper this, — 
•* /am not the thing you kiss ; 
Cease your tears, and let it lie ; 
It was mine, it is not I." 



Sweet friends ! What the women 
For its last bed of the grave, 
Is but a hut which I am quitting, 
Is a garment no more fitting. 
Is a cage from which, at last, 
Like a hawk my soul hath passed. 
Love the inmate, not the room, — 
The wearer, not the garb,— the plume 

933 



834 Btter Deatb in Hrabla. 

Of the falcon, not the bars 

Which kept him from those splendid stars* 

J^oving friends ! Be wise and dry 
Straightway every weeping eye. — 
What ye lift upon the bier 
Is not worth a wistful tear. 
'T is an empty sea-shell, — one 
Out of which the pearl is gone ; 
The shell is broken, it lies there ; 
The pearl, the all, the soul, is here. 
'T is an earthen jar, whose lid 
Allah sealed, the while it hid 
That treasure of his treasury, 
A mind that loved him ; let it lie ! 
Let the shard be earth's once more, 
Since the gold shines in his store 1 

Allah glorious ! Allah good ! 
Now thy world is understood ; 
Now the long, long wonder ends ; 
Yet ye weep, my erring friends, 
While the man whom ye call dead, 
In unspoken bliss, instead, 
Lives and loves you ; lost, 't is true» 
By such light as shines for you ; 
But in the light ye cannot see 
Of unfulfilled felicity, — 



mtci Dcatb in 2lrabfa» 235 

In enlarging paradise, 
Lives a life that never dies. 



Farewell, friends ! Yet not farewell ; 
Where I am, ye, too, shall dwell. 
I am gone before your face, 
A moment's time, a little space. 
When ye come where I have stepped 
Ye will wonder why ye wept ; 
Ye will know, by wise love taught, 
That here is all, and there is naught. 
Weep awhile, if ye are fain, — 
Sunshine still must follow rain ; 
Only not at death,^for death. 
Now I know, is that first breath 
Which our souls draw when we enter 
Life, which is of all life centre. 

Be ye certain all seems love. 

Viewed from Allah's throne above ; 

Be ye stout of heart, and come 

Bravely onward to your home I 

Za Allah ilia Allah / yea ! 

Thou love divine ! Thou love alway I 

He that died at Azan gave 

This to those who made his grave. 



BY EDWIN ARNOLD. 

" She is dead 1 " they said to him ; ** 

away ; 
Kiss her and leave her, — thy love is clay I " 

They smoothed her tresses of dark browa 

hair ; 
On her forehead of stone they laid it fair ; 

Over her eyes that gazed too much 
They drew the lids with a gentle touch ; 

With a tender touch they closed up well 
The sweet thin lips that had secrets to tell ; 

About her brows and beautiful face 
They tied her veil and her marriage lace, 

And drew on her white feet her white silk 

shoes — 
Which were the whitest no eye could choose — 

And over her bosom they crossed her hands^ 
*• Come away I " they said ; " God under- 
stands.'' 

«3< 



*' Sbc atiD DC/* 237 

And there was silence, and nothing there 
But silence, and scents of eglantere, 

And jasmine, and roses, and rosemary ; 

And they said, " As a lady should lie, lies she." 

And they held their breath till they left the 

room, 
With a shudder, to glance at its stillness and 

gloom. 

But he who lov'd her too well to dread 
The sweet, the stately, the beautiful dead, 

He lit his lamp and took the key 

And turned it — alone again — he and she. 

He and she ; but she would not speak, 
Though he kissed, in the old place, the quiet 
cheek. 

He and she ; yet she would not smile, 
Though he called her the name she loved ere» 
while. 

He and she; still she. did not move 
To any one passionate whisper of love. 

Then he said : " Cold lips and breasts without 

breath, 
Is there no voice, no language of death ? 



238 ** Sbe anJ> Ibe/' 

" Dumb to the ear and still to the sense, 
But to heart and to soul distinct, intense ? 

"See now; I will listen with soul, not ear; 
What was the secret of dying, dear ? 

" Was it the infinite wonder of all 

That you ever could let life's flower fall ? 

** Or was it a greater marvel to feel 
The perfect calm o'er the agony steal ? 

**Was the miracle greater to find how deep 
Beyond all dreams sank downward that sleep f 

" Did life roll back its records dear, 
And show, as they say it does, past thingg 
clear ? 

" And was it the innermost heart of the bliss 
To find out so, what a wisdom love is ? 

" O perfect dead ! O dead most dear, 
I hold the breath of my soul to hear ! 

** I listen as deep as to horrible hell, 

As high as to heaven, and you do not telL 

** There must be pleasure in dying, sweet, 
To make you so placid from head to feet I 



" Sbe anD ibe/' 239 

••I would tell you, darling, if I were dead, 
And 'twere your hot tears upon my brow 
shed,-7 

•I would say, though the Angel of Death had 

laid 
His sword on my lips to keep it unsaid. 

" You should not ask vainly, with streaming 

eyes. 
Which of all deaths was the chiefest surprise, 

"The very strangest and suddenest thing 
Of all the surprises that dying must bring." 

Ah, foolish world ; O most kind dead 1 
Though he told me, who will believe it was 
said ? 

Who will believe that he heard her say, 

With the sweet, soft voice, in the dear old way : 

" The utmost wonder is this,— I hear 

And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dear ; 

** And am your angel, who was your bride. 
And know that, though dead, I have never 
died." 



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